Return
by lumos-aeternum
Summary: In the wake of the events of the Third Task, Harry and his friends are scattered, the Ministry is in dangerous hands, and who can say what will happen. Now, torn away from the only home he's ever known, Harry is left wondering how to return and what he might find when he does. This picks up where the story "Home" leaves off.
1. Chapter 1: Sanctuary

She pulled her hair back, tying it behind her head in as near a ponytail as possible blindly. Without pausing to check, in a nearby window, she crept forward, slipping between shadows on a lane full of nothing but shadows. To think that she might have been anywhere like this a week ago was laughable. Now, nothing made sense any more. All she knew was that where she was going, they might be able to help.

A door opened nearby, and she dove into a thin alley, holding her breath. It was hot, here, and the thin space made her feel slightly claustrophobic. A pair of large men walked past, laughing with coughs interrupting at half second intervals. For all she could see, they were like two bulges moving along. There was no hesitation as they passed, and soon the sounds of their steps were gone.

Inching her head at the edge, she looked out, swivelling both directions. No one. With quick feet, she slipped out of the alley and down to the end of the row. All of the shops were dark, now. It was late, immensely late. This was the only time she could even try. Where was it? The entrance… she had to.

Another door opened behind her, only a few paces away. She froze, hoping it was just someone letting out a cat or…

"Just getting a breath o' fresh air, lass," said a gruff voice. "Don't git yer knickers in a bunch."

With a rush of adrenaline, she hurried forward, checking doors. Fifteen, eighteen, twenty-seven. She couldn't make heads or tails of the system. Then, it was there, thirty-one. Pushing the door, she was happy to find it open, as the note said it would be. Slipping inside, she shut the door as quietly as possible, holding a moment, waiting for a banging behind her.

None came. Breathing a little easier, she walked across the decrepit room, not daring to make a light. The back wall was plastered with old magazine covers that moved and displayed ads sluggishly, tired with long age. In the dim sliver of moonlight that found its way through a high window, she searched. Finding a particularly gnarled and charred one with a dragon tossing its egg in the air, she touched the dragon's tail and one wing, just so.

A click told her the work was done, and she found the now-open panel. Sliding it aside, fully, she crawled through, shuttering it behind her. Then, the floor gave way, and she slid, flopping hard on her face on the ground below. A light illuminated her, suddenly, overly bright.

"Is it her?" asked a voice.

"Show yourself," said another.

She looked up, feeling pain on her front, but holding her hands up, showing she was not a threat.

"Oh, good," said one, sighing.

"Thank goodness," said the other. "You made it."

"Y-yeah," she said, uncertainly, "just like the message said."

She felt someone lift her and pull her into a deep hug. "Hermione," the young man, said. "How did you get away?"

"Fred?" she asked. "You're the contact?"

"And me!" George exclaimed. "Can't believe you'd forget about me."

Her eyes adjusted, and she smiled, pulling back from the twins who had gripped her together in a group hug. "What are you doing here? What about your family?"

"More on that later," Fred said. "We need to get you deeper. You'll be safer there."

"Deeper than this?" she asked, looking around at the pitch dark room.

The twins gave her a joint-mischievous smile, and tugged her along. "Trust us," the said.

They led her down a sloping corridor lit with Fred's wand. "What happened at the school?" she asked, looking up at their faces.

"The Ministry sent everyone home," Fred replied. "Made it sound like there was nothing to worry about, but they did ask a number of us about you… two."

"Not that we had anything to tell them," George said, "if we would have told them."

Hermione noticed that the corridor began to curve and slope downwards, a gentle winding deep down, like a drill bit. The twins gave no sign this was unusual, so she didn't mention it.

"What did they do?" she asked, looking them over as best she could in the light.

"Just a lot of talk about supporting the Ministry and how good citizens act," George replied.

"I think they expected you and Harry to make contact with us first," Fred said. "So, they didn't want to scare us away."

"How did you end up here, though?" she asked. "I mean, if they're watching you. Wouldn't they come find us here?"

"They were very careful," Fred said.

"Have it all arranged so we can be in this central hub without anyone being the wiser," George added, grinning. "Anyone who needs to lay low can look to us."

"I don't-" she began.

"We have funding, you see," Fred said.

"So we could quit school and do what we really want," George added.

"What you really-" she began. Her eyes widened. "No."

"Yes!" they said together. "We're opening a shop in Diagon Alley!"

"That's amazing!" she exclaimed. "But…" she paused, stopping her steps to look at them. "Who funded you? Do you know if it's…"

"Totally a legitimate source," Fred said.

"All above board," George added.

"We have a business partner who didn't know what to do with a recent windfall," Fred said.

"But he does believe in the cause," George said. "He knows what is going on, and wants to help however he can."

"He?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I felt terrible," came a voice out of the darkness ahead. "I should have been able to stop them from…"

"Cedric?" Hermione asked, surprised as the older boy entered the wand light.

"Hello," he replied. "I'm glad to hear you're okay. We've lost track of too much since…"

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Hermione said, observing his face. "Harry got out and-"

"Not here," Fred said. "We're almost there. We should be safer to speak openly there."

"Especially about Arry-Hay Otter-Pay," George said, obvious in his emphasis.

Cedric joined them in walking down the sloped path. It went only a few turns further. Clearly, Cedric had been sent up to meet them. Or to guard the entrance from someone else?

"They're waiting for you," Cedric commented, waving to a grey steel door ahead.

"I know," Fred said.

"We could only start down when she arrived," George said.

"I was telling her," Cedric said, giving them an odd look.

"I-er, okay," Hermione said, following Cedric's gesture and entering the door. The others followed her, but stayed a few paces behind while Hermione stepped into a bright space, blinking.

The space ahead was wide, much wider than she had expected. It looked, as Hermione's eyes grew accustomed to the light, a bit like a Muggle palace of some old king. The whole of it seemed to glisten until she came closer to a wall of brick. It was old and well worn, as though aged for centuries in a wide variety of weather. She reached out a hand to touch it, but a voice called her attention away.

"Miss Granger," the voice said, "if you could join us, please?"

Hermione, curious, followed the voice around the corner of the brick wall to find a round table with five seats, four of which were taken. Her eyes grew wide, seeing the group seated. It was not what she had expected. Seated in front of her were Albus Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, Alastor Moody, and Amelia Bones.

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore said, his voice kindly, but she could detect something worn, tired in it.

"Headmaster," she said, pulling out the seat to sit. "I - what is going on here?"

"Test her, Albus," Moody growled. "We cannot afford the risk."

The Headmaster nodded. "Apologies, Miss Granger. We need to be sure. With whom did you watch the final game of Quidditch your first year?"

"I…" Hermione began, thinking back, "Bill and Charlie Weasley sat with Harry and me. Why would you ask a Quidditch question to me?"

"Just a couple more, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "Your pardon, please. When Fred Weasley looked in the Mirror of Erised, what did he see?"

Hermione paused a second. They had both seen something different. Which was which…? "I believe Fred saw a prank war and George saw the pair of them owning a joke shop."

"Good," Dumbledore replied. "One more, if you don't mind… What memory did you share with me in your first year?"

"It was what Harry and I had overheard in the Astronomy Tower," she replied. "We later learned it was Quirrell speaking with V- You-Know-Who plotting to take the Philosopher's Stone."

"Very good, Miss Granger," Albus said. "Satisfied?" He directed the last to Moody.

The other man just grunted. Dumbledore turned back to Hermione.

"Well, then," Dumbledore said. "I think we are satisfied you are who you say you are."

"Thanks?" Hermione replied. "C-can I ask what is going on here? Where are we?"

"I am sorry for the confusion, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "We had to find you before they tracked you down. You still have the Trace on you, and I don't have to tell you the risk that raises."

"Isn't it risky for you to meet with me?" She asked. "Shouldn't I go?"

"We have shielded this place, protecting it from Trace detection, among other things," Madam Bones said, cutting in. "Young Champions and their friends aren't the only people focused on self protection."

Hermione looked at the Head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement, questions bubbling up. Before she could voice them, Dumbledore cut in.

"Madam Bones is here to help, Miss Granger," he said. "She has my full trust, and you can speak freely with anyone at this table present."

"Sorry," Hermione said, though she had said nothing against the woman. "I hope you can understand… given recent events."

"All of our trust is on thin ice, Miss Granger," the woman said. "Stories from the other night are too varied and fantastic to easily believe. We were hoping you might shed some light on it all."

"You may know more about what happened in the maze," Hermione began. "I was outside, near the front. Professor McGonagall had asked me to remain there in case Harry came out on his own."

The others were quiet, intent, all faces hard and thoughtful. Hermione continued without pause, hoping to help them in some way with her little bit of the events of that night. She had a hard enough time believing it, herself.

"Harry messaged me, his voice a little unclear, I think due to the spells in the area. He said something about the Silver Scions doing something to him, they tried to put Riddle into him. He didn't elaborate, but then said that the Death Eaters stopped them. He escaped while they fought. He asked me to send up a flare to guide him out of the maze. I did, and he told me he was on the far side of the maze and the fighting was between us.

"He determined to go out of the maze and asked if I could come around to meet him. I rushed around the maze then, wand ready. I could see a lot of smoke over the maze but didn't see anyone until I saw Harry duelling someone. Before I reached them, Harry had disabled his opponent. Harry told me it had been Barty Crouch Junior disguised as Professor Dubois.

"Harry and I went to the school to hide in the Room of Requirement, but… You-Know-Who was there and we were surrounded. Erm-"

She paused, wondering if she should say the next bit. It was important, but would she be believed?

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Madam Bones asked.

"I-," she began, taking a breath. "He was there, too, Madam Bones, th- the Minister of Magic. H-he said he w-would help Y-You-Know-Who rise…"

No one objected or asked for explanation. In fact, this news seemed no more interesting to the group than the rest of it.

"You-" she began to continue.

"Call him Voldemort, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "Give him no more power than he has."

"S-sure," she replied, realising how nervous she felt and sounded. Taking a breath, she finished, "Voldemort threatened us, saying he would kill Harry to end it and… had s-someone use the Cruciatus on m-me as-as a warning. Harry told him to stop if he would give himself up, but Voldemort laughed, saying he would kill Harry and any he liked. Then, I don't know how it happened. I asked the room to protect Harry. I asked it with everything I - Anyway, he disappeared and then I was consumed in light and was gone, too."

"Where did you go, Miss Granger?" Albus asked when she did not continue.

"I awoke on a hill top in Western Scotland," she replied. I found a train station nearby, and the locals told me it was called Beinn Dorain. I had never been there before, so I do not know how I found myself there."

"It is as you said, then, Albus," Maxime said. "Zis castle has sent zem away."

"And Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I couldn't find him anywhere," she said, fighting the sadness that had fallen on her in the past few days. "I walked all over the area asking after him. I sent messages to anyone I trusted, but he never replied and everyone just said to stay away and safe. I don't know what is going on, but I- we need to find Harry. Unless you have found him?"

"We have not, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said.

"Ve haf been getting our students safely away from zee school," Maxime said. "Mine are with their families, now."

"Why was I told to stay away?" She asked. "They can't still be after us, can they? They couldn't come out openly or…"

"Things are more complicated now," Dumbledore said. "If you will please sit, we will explain it to you."

Hermione realised - to her embarrassment - that she was standing with her hands clamped on the table lip, knuckles white from the pressure. Sitting quickly and pulling her arms in to grasp each other on her lap, Hermione looked around the table, feeling abashed.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Nothing to apologise for," Dumbledore said. "This will be very concerning for you, as it is for us. What you've said confirms some of the rumours going about. Professor Dubois' treachery had become known, but his true identity was news. Thank you for that. Harry's disappearance is widely discussed, in whispers, but no one knows where or why. You have, I think, answered that."

"Did the room really?" she asked.

"The Room of Requirement," Dumbledore said, looking around at the others at the table, "is a powerful part of the castle that can make your needs a reality. Miss Granger needed for Harry to be taken somewhere safe, and so he was. Likewise, I expect, he wished for her own well-being, and she was taken to another place of safety. For what reason the Room did not choose to locate them together, I cannot say. Perhaps it lacked that power, perhaps not. I do not know we will ever truly know.

"Knowing the enemy has power of the Room, too, is a dangerous thing. His will manifest in the room is scary, but somewhat limited in application. He is a brilliant wizard, but has never had the imagination that I expect Mr. Potter and Miss Granger have. Their use of it in their time is beyond anything I have read about, though they may not be aware of the staff's knowledge. I'm rather friendly with the house elves, myself, Miss Granger. Do not be alarmed."

"What is all this about, Dumblydore," Maxime said. "You sent word that we needed to decide important things zis night."

"And we do, Madam," Dumbledore responded, nodding to her. "Our movements in England will become a lot more dangerous after this week. If we are not already being followed, most working with us will be, soon. Miss Granger especially, given her underage status. And Harry's as well, when he turns up."

Hermione smiled. She was glad to hear him say that Harry would be back. She knew it, but it was good to hear someone else being so sure. Still, he had a point. If Harry reappeared and the enemy had assigned someone to watch for him, especially if they were in the Ministry…

"Is the Ministry… fallen, then?" Hermione asked. "Do we have no way of stopping them?"

"No way?" Moody growled. "Sound like a child. Of course we have ways, girl. The Ministry isn't a spell that is either active or not. The subtlety, the many people amongst it, that is how Voldemort got his foothold. And, it is how we will take it back."

"Well put, Alastor," Madam Bones said. "As you say, there are a number of us who will not let his influence ruin our great institution. We act carefully, deliberately, as the ultimate problem must be handled to heal the sickness. Ours is not a rash enterprise."

"Part of why I have asked Madam Bones here tonight," Dumbledore said, "is to inquire into the Trace. What options do we have to protect Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter, later?"

"The Trace is not within my purview, Albus," Amelia said, her eyes hard. "I would not touch it, if I could. The eyes upon that tool at the moment are far too many for an intervention. Would I ask a staffer to alter Miss Granger's Trace, he would be found, and I, as well. There is no safe method to remove this until you have reached your seventeenth birthday, my dear."

"T-then," Hermione began, "I flee? Leave the country? What of my parents? Of Harry? I don't want to run from the fight, but I don't want to draw the enemy down on the rest of you."

"A noble spirit," Albus said. "As a Gryffindor should be."

She saw appreciative nods from Madam Maxime and Amelia Bones. Blushing, Hermione tried to brush it off.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said. "I think you must have an idea of what I can do to help. Do you?"

Albus inclined his head, looking understanding. "Yes, as I said before, you have options, we all do, tonight. Options on how to direct yourself in the time to come. We have buried the entrance you used to arrive here. A precaution. The Ministry might be able to find where you have been since that night, but they cannot find you down here. One option, as you have pointed out, is to flee. Madam Maxime, I do not speak for you or your school, but, should you take in Hermione, I can assure you that she would be of the highest calibre student you could have in your school. Her marks have been far above her peers, and her spell development and research… well, if you have seen Harry's performances in the tournament, no small part of that is due to Miss Granger."

"I vould be more than willing to take on a student recommended by you, Dumblydore, should she wish it," Madam Maxime said. "And you vill find our school is shielded as this place, protected from zese sorts of spells. Ze Ministry here iz not ze only one with secrets."

"Oh, thank you," Hermione said, feeling torn. To learn from a foreign school would be an amazing opportunity, and rare from all her research. They seldom allowed anyone from other schools to visit, and it was only under extreme circumstances that anyone ever transferred. Still, how could she abandon this? Abandon all of those people counting on you.

"And, I would assist your parents in finding safety with our foreign neighbours," Dumbledore said. "I understand the Muggle governments allow easy movement between countries in Europe, and a few Muggles leaving will not attract notice from our enemies."

"It would be an honour to learn at Beauxbatons," Hermione said, looking between Madam Maxime and Dumbledore, but her face couldn't quite smile at it. "But…"

"But you worry about abandoning your friends, and all of us," Dumbledore finished for her. "I had thought you might. Thus, a second option occurred. This sanctuary is going to be a central location for the Order of the Phoenix and allies. We will regularly meet here and your friends - whom are hiding behind the wall assuming no one will hear them - will work nearby and can visit you whenever you like. When Harry returns, we will likely give him a similar choice."

"Think on it, Mizz Granger," Madam Maxime said. "Next term is a little away, of course. You can do much good here in the meantime, I am thinking."

"Yes, there is no need to decide tonight," Dumbledore said. "Once you have chosen, however, it will be quite difficult to change what we have set in place. And the longer we wait, the more risk to everyone involved. This war, however, is not yours to fight, none of you must face Voldemort or his Death Eaters. That choice is and always will lie with you. Harry, too, will have to choose, as well, when he returns."

"What of… Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"The other professors will look after the students for the time being," Dumbledore said. "I do not expect it will be a safe place for you or Harry for… some time."

"I-I understand," Hermione said. "What other decisions did you need me to make tonight?"

"Nothing you should concern yourself with tonight," Dumbledore said. "Should you remain, you will learn much more about what is going on. To properly research and develop spells, you will need to know what we are up against."

"I- I see," Hermione said.

"Please, go gather your friends," Dumbledore said. "Their ears must be hurting by now, pressed against the brick so hard. They will show you where you will stay, for tonight, and get you some supper. A couple Hogwarts house elves have offered their services to us, as a courtesy from Vinken."

"Th-thank you," Hermione said. "I will think about it. Both offers are more than I could have asked for."

"Go rest, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "We will speak again, soon."

The others said their goodbyes, Madam Maxime's with a look of interest that had not been there at the beginning of the conversation. Hermione felt certain the woman would not be satisfied until Hermione agreed to join her school. Suddenly feeling more tired than she had been that long day of travel, Hermione went around the brick wall to where the twins were trying very hard to look casual.

"Don't do it, Hermione!" Fred cried after they had walked a few paces away.

"She hasn't decided anything yet, nutter!" George told him, laughing. "Both do seem tempting, right?"

Hermione just nodded, following. Her thoughts were deep in this problem and far away.

"We had a similar choice," Fred said.

"Who could resist running a shop and helping defeat You-Know-Who together?" George asked.

"Not us!" Fred exclaimed. "I can't wait until you see it."

"She won't be able to until the Trace wears off," George corrected him.

"Or we beat You-Know-Who," Fred said. "So a week, tops!"

Hermione let them banter on as they walked. It was comforting to hear them acting as they always did. It could be sort of like that. If the twins were always near… And maybe Harry would come back. What should she do? What would Harry do in her place? Where was Harry? She hoped he was alright. He had to be alright. He just had to.


	2. Chapter 2: Rightful Place

"Narcissa, is the boy ready yet?" Lucius called, straightening his robes and giving a hard look in the mirror.

A hard, tired, but energised face looked back. It was not the same face it had been, all those years ago, when all of this started. Sometimes the things we begin have a way of coming back when thought long dead. He needed tonight, though, he needed this to go just right.

"Nearly, dear," Narcissa called from the distance.

Lucius shook his head. At least the boy hadn't put up too much of a fuss this time. He had no one to wax irritated with, none that were present and accounted for, leastways. Breathing deep, Lucius gave himself a stern look and swept away from the looking glass. Dobby, the house elf, held out his cane, polished to a shine. Without a second glance, Lucius snatched it up in mid-stride and deposited his wand in the end, letting his walk take on its characteristic regal air. His family had been important in the wizarding community for hundreds of years. Tonight, he would ensure that continued to the next generation.

His stride slow and regular, he entered his son's wing, a menagerie of an untouched library, a balcony garden, a room the boy had dedicated to Quidditch and his personal sleeping and bathing rooms. Lucius' cheek twitched when he passed the pristine library. If the boy had ever had the slightest ambition for his marks, he wouldn't have spent so much time whinging about those of his peers. The expense he had gone to in acquiring many of those tomes… Lucius merely clicked his tongue and moved on.

Then, as he came even with the garden, he could make out his son's ongoing battle with his wife.

"Mum, it's fine," Draco said, his voice that scathing quality it hit when he was being pushed into something he had no interest in.

"Your hair is a fright, Draco, dear," she said, her voice a soothing purr. "We mustn't let them see you looking less than your best. After all, this is your night, isn't it?"

"Could have fooled me," Draco snapped.

"That sounds an easy thing to do, Draco," Lucius said, stepping into the room. He looked over at his wife as she hovered over the boy. She shot him a look, but he ignored it. "If you don't want to look the fool, then do as your mother says."

"Yes… father," Draco said.

Lucius could see the irritation on his son's face, but felt a satisfaction in the restraint he had had in that response. Not two months before and the boy would have snapped back. He could learn, even if there was much remaining to learn.

"If you would remain still, Draco, dear," Narcissa said, tugging his head less gently back to front. "I'll be done in a moment."

"Tonight is important, Draco," Lucius repeated - he had had to tell his son far too many times as it was. "All of the most important people will be present. You need to make a good impression for your future. For the future of the family."

"Are things not going well at work, father?" Draco asked. His voice was even, but Lucius could sense the sarcasm within.

"If one does not prepare for the storm during clear skies, there will be no time when the flood draws nigh," Lucius said, slowly. "Our family has prided itself on staying ahead of the times. We do that by making the right connections early. Your efforts at school have been far from sufficient. In the new year, I expect much more, Draco."

"Yes, father," Draco said, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"There," Narcissa said, patting her son's shoulders from behind. "As handsome as your father."

"Thanks mum," Draco said, rising as soon as she would let him move.

Lucius nodded. "We should be on our way," he said. "Shall we?"

He held out his arms to his wife on one side and Draco on the other. When he had held on tightly, he spun away, pulling them through the void of Apparition and that crunching, uncomfortable sensation. When they landed, he kept his wife's arm in his and let his son walk on his own.

"Stay close, Draco," Lucius said. "I will introduce you around."

"Yes, father," Draco said, sounding bored already.

Lucius sighed as he knocked on the door in front of them, the unassuming structure not taking a second of his notice. He had no time for those sorts of appearances, anyway. Some places were not meant to be noticed by just anyone. His knock was a series of long remembered taps, raps and thuds. There was nothing for several seconds afterwards, but suddenly there was a swish of air and the door slid away, revealing a dark hallways bordering a large, imposing man.

"Hello, Darius," Lucius said. "How are the children?"

"Very good, Monsieur Malfoy," the man replied, his etiquette and composure belied by the great height and size of the man. Somehow, he managed a great bow in the small space, and moved aside for the three of them. "The master awaits. He said you are to join him in his office immediately."

"Ah, then I shall attend," Lucius said. "Thank you."

Then, they swept on into a large open space. Lucius saw his son's eyes widen in the breadth of it. The small building held a massive room, full at the moment, with the cream of Wizarding society from England and half the continent. Hundreds of persons of importance chatted in little clumps, the clear divisions in class separating some from others. More than anything, the sound made an impression, clearly ringing with energy and bursts of laughter. This was the life and soul of the country, where his kind belonged.

A quick glance found numerous familiar faces, and many - still - he had never met. In a crowd of this size, the importance lay in whom you got to know, not in getting to know everyone. Lucius' eyes could make out the nouveau attendees, lingering on the edges of the circles they longed to join. It was as clear and obvious as it had been from his first introduction. He would see that Draco need no such lowly initiations. Not his son.

However, before joining the party, Lucius had to attend to their host. He let his wife deftly to one side, gesturing with his hand for Draco to follow. If they had lingered much, the three of them would have been beset by dozens of familiar faces, long delaying what should be done at once. There would be time later, much time, in fact. The office was along the lefthand side from the entrance, the first gap in the gilded footboard. Lucius' feet clicked on the polished marble, the sound muffled by the jumble of conversation from the rest of the room.

The door, nearly porcelain in texture, opened on its own before Lucius had moved to knock, gliding out of the way to present an ornately decorated office. The walls had a mixture of golds and red, bedecked with gems in intersections of the patterns. Bookshelves were spaced carefully around the circular space, leaving no one to consider if the owner was a man of learning or not. In the midst of this a large desk took up a quarter of the space, its space sparsely used. Lucius could see fine wood grain patterns from some ancient and magnificent tree. Sitting casually behind this sat the proprietor, a rather rotund man dressed in the finest dress robes, smoking a pipe that magically prevented anyone else from noting even a hint of smoke.

"Ah, Lucius!" the man said, sitting forward. "I thought you would be along sooner or later." He rose, slowly, grunting as he went. With but a few steps he came to greet them. His height was much greater than his bulk and low seat indicated. His hands took Narcissa's. "Ah, my dear Narcissa! You look lovelier each time you come by. You're a lucky man, Lucius."

"A well established truth, old man," Lucius said. "And might I-"

"Oh, but you'll be wanting a drink, yes?" the man said, stepping over to a patch of wall, tapping to reveal a full service bar. "I have some 1508, if that's to your liking."

"You know it always is, Seville," Lucius said, and went on quickly, "but I should introduce you to my son, Draco. Draco, this is Master Seville Lestrum, our most benevolent patron of this evening."

"Do go on, Lucius," Seville said, laughing. He brought over a glass for Lucius, and swept over to Draco, a great hand engulfing the boy's in his own. "I hope your dad hasn't told too many stories about me, my boy. A few aren't for younger ears."

With a wink at Narcissa, the man observed Draco. Draco, much to Lucius' relief did not snap at the clear patronising manner of the older man.

"Thank you for hosting this event tonight," Draco said. "My dad has only said good things."

"Then, he hasn't gotten to any of the fun stuff, I daresay," Seville replied. "Might I have a private word, Lucius? It will only be a moment."

"Of course," Lucius said, turning to his wife. "Narcissa?"

"Very good to see you again, Mr. Lestrum," she replied.

"Until next time," he replied, leaning to kiss her hand. "And excellent to make your acquaintance, my lad," he added, taking Draco's again.

The pair left, and Lucius sipped the fine firewhiskey as he and Seville settled into their seats. It was one of his favourites, and difficult to find. Of course, Seville could get whatever he wanted. He was the sort of man Lucius liked.

"How is business these days?" Seville asked, gesturing with his pipe. "I hear you've got the new Minister wrapped around your little finger."

"I've made a good connection there," Lucius said, smirking. "Minister Wincress has a wisdom lacking in … some of his predecessors."

"Doubtless," Seville said, shrugging. "Some see the light better than others, do they not? It is always something I have said."

Lucius watched the man, carefully, but Seville was giving nothing away. He never called Lucius to his office unless he needed something. Even less common was this level of generosity in his firewhiskey. Despite serving the best to his favourites, he was usually very soft handed with his pours. Today, nearly half of Lucius' glass was full. Whatever it was, Lucius expected something quite important. Why introduce the topic of the Ministry so suddenly, if not to lead towards a Ministerial favour? Lucius decided to help the man push forward. Otherwise, the firewhiskey could be long gone before they reached the point.

"Many need guidance," Lucius added. "And even the best among us needs a helping hand, every now and then."

"Quite so, quite so," Seville said, eyeing him keenly over his pipe.

He took another careful draw, and then set the pipe on a porcelain tray, its size perfectly suited to the pipe. Lucius saw, absently, that it was in the shape of a house elf bent over, tilling soil. The house elf's back fit the pipe's curvature perfectly. It was one of Seville's more amusing pieces he had acquired in his younger years, travelling and adventuring for fun and sport. Lucius had seen the tail of a manticore Seville had slain elegantly and dangerously hovering over visitors to his winter lodge, up in the highlands of Scotland.

"You were always one to see what is needed quickly, Lucius," Seville admitted, opening his arms wide. "I do, indeed, have something to ask you."

"Ask away, old friend," Lucius said. "You have done more than your share of favours to me and mine. My father, rest his bones, thought the world of your father, as well."

"And my grandfather, yours," Seville said, waving off the compliments. "And so on we go. But this, tonight, is rather important, Lucius. We are both men of business, and business changes, adapts. The way of it is to follow the right winds, to listen to the keen cries of the bird upwind and find the path forward with our instinct, and, of course, the guidance of the collective whole."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. Seville never liked to speak about business, and when he did, it was often after dinner, in general terms over some of his finest sweets and wines. He waxed philosophical then, but never like this. The elder Malfoy, though, would hear him out. Seville was a man of substance, not talk. His ears pricked, though, for something quite unusual.

Seville hesitated, eyeing Lucius for a reaction. Other than his raised eyebrow, Lucius betrayed nothing. He kept his face calm and composed. The man could decide for himself how to proceed. The silence was not long in ending.

"You know, old friend," Seville said, "that many of your friends are aware of your…shall we say… side project. Never have I raised a point or a finger against you in this. It is not my place, nor my business. And, please, do not take this as an affront to it after all of this time. In respect for our friendship, I beg you hear me out."

Lucius' eyes had tightened, not by any decision of his, but sheer reaction. He was sure many would know, all of the best people knew what was important for all of the others, but to bring it to light in even a conversation was the greatest of taboos. Seville must have a great reason for breaking the unspoken protocol.

"And yes, I know the way we are with such things," Seville said. "We all have our open secrets, and even to hint about exposing any of them to another soul is unthinkable. This is not my point. My point is simple. Do not become so buried in your hobbies that you forget to check the winds. I do not pretend to know where the winds of that affair are headed, and, frankly, I do not want to. My own affairs are enough for me, as you have long known. Your father gave me great advice when I was but a child, and I mean to repeat his own words to you.

"When I was a lad, in a forgotten time, I had different interests that ranged far and wide. One such, was against an upcoming change in Ministry regulation. Your father had wind of it, and told me, 'Young Master Lestrum, mind the wind, my boy. Mind it, and ever keep one ear to the ground and one to the winds. You'll hear what is coming both ways, and be ever the better for it.' He never criticised, mind. Never told me off for any risk I made to me and mine, regardless. But he taught me to look out for myself. A valuable lesson."

"My father told me the same," Lucius said, his expression flat. "Whenever he wanted to change my mind, he'd remind me of the winds."

"Whatever your father's devices," Seville said, "I only ask you to look out for yourself. Ones in our place in the world hear many things. The threads of the wind may lie among any or none of them. The winds I hear have been jumbled and confused these many months since our last meeting. I know you will find yourself in the middle of much of it, and I would you weather through as best you can, my good friend."

"I have weathered worse winds, my friend," Lucius said, biting down on his anger. "And I hear the wind sing in my ear. Who hears better than those who direct the storm?"

"I wouldn't know, my friend," Seville said, his voice sounding troubled. "I worry for my friend, that is all. And, regardless, you will hear nothing on the matter after this. I felt a weight upon me, and had to speak."

"Well, no need to worry," Lucius said, throwing back the last of the firewhiskey. It burned harshly in his throat, but he gave no sign. "Thank you, again, for the drink. You have impeccable taste in whiskey."

"But of course," Seville said, a defeated look transforming into his old demeanour. "Now, I shouldn't keep you from my other guests. Go, and I may see you out amongst the best of our world shortly, no?"

"I am sure you will," Lucius said, letting a smile cross his face. His mind still burned with a fury, but he could not afford to be a poor guest.

Seville nodded, rising with him. "I will be along shortly, then," he said. "Do say hello to our ambassadors from Sweden and Norway. They are a rare addition, tonight."

The pair parted and Lucius slipped out the door, stalking off back towards the front door. He had half a mind to leave. The thought that one of his oldest friends would try to… The man needed to learn his place, but tonight was not the venue, not the time. No one told Lucius Malfoy what to do.

He had nearly reached the front when he noticed his wife and son were still tailing him. Pausing, he breathed a sigh. He ought, at least, to introduce Draco around. Dozens of men of the highest quality would consider it a grave insult not to see him tonight, as well. One must keep up appearances, for all the important reasons he had taught Draco. All the more he must do this, if but to teach his son by example. No matter the insult, diplomacy was paramount.

Time floated away, and Lucius had nearly forgotten his disagreement amid the hundreds of faces, handshakes, flattering introductions he had prepared. The happier the greeted, the more accepting of the introduced. Draco, too, was at his best behaved, bowing where rank was appropriate, laughing and witty in turn. Truly, his son. Lucius felt a swell of pride as they went along. He had nearly reached the far end of the room, at the centre of the great and curious mass surrounding the new foreign ambassadors when a shriek caught his ears.

The crowd turned as a young woman, perhaps five years Draco's senior, stepped into the parting crowd. She looked around, horror etched on her face, and sobbed, "Master Lestrum! He's dead!"


	3. Chapter 3: Found

The air was already warm, despite the early hour. Liam dusted off his hands on his pants, seeing a bunch of sand toss in the morning light. These early walks would grow more difficult in the next month or so, always did in the summer months. Still, it couldn't be as hot as the summer before.

His shoe kicked a small pebble from the edge of the beach, but he hardly noticed. His eyes were on the ocean, the never-ending blue that was emerging from the grey night waters. Trappings of pinkish hues of the morning sunlight tipped the peaks of the jostling waves, but the whole of it was that deep blue he had fallen in love with as a child.

Liam hadn't left his beach, his home, in decades, but he couldn't think of a reason to want to leave. It had everything he wanted, right here. With a smile at his old friend, the man gingerly walked off the beach and back towards his office. Duty called.

As it happened, Liam's office was only a block off of the water, a happy location to his mind, though it was not directly in view of all that blue. The beachfront always costed more, no matter where you went, he thought. Still, at his door, he could hear the gentle roll of the waves. On a quiet day, he could still hear it through a cracked window. Turning about the weather-beaten sign at his front door, he entered, letting the world know that the "Doctor Is In".

Liam had hardly settled into his chair when a bang filled the silence as his door flew open, striking the wall and rebounding. In a blur, a young boy ran up to him, his eyes wide and hair as disheveled as it ever was.

"Doctor! Doctor!" Little Kyle cried. "It's - oh, but you wouldn't believe - I mean, maybe you, but would anyone really, I - you know …"

"Hold up there, Kyle," Doctor Liam said. "Steady. Now," he said after a moment, "could you you tell me what the commotion is about, eh? Is someone hurt?"

"I-I don't know," Kyle said. "He was just there, but asleep. I mean, I could see his chest move, so I don't know if …"

"You found someone?" Liam asked, trying to parse through the boy's speech. "Where is he at?"

"In the rocks on the other side of the beach," the boy said.

"And he's not moving?" Liam asked.

"Just breathing," Kyle said. "I've seen in the shows they check for the chest moving."

"I- okay," Liam said. "Lead me there. I will take a look at him."

"Should I call the RGP?" the boy asked.

"No need, boy, no need," Liam said, standing and pulling a few things out of his cabinets, adding them to the bag open on the desk. "I'll make sure he's alright, first. Could have just had a bit too much last night. No point'n getting them on his case about it. Hangover'd be the best teacher, after all. 'Sides, Joseph's men have more'n their share of trouble to take care of. No need to make more of it."

Kyle nodded, looking at the doctor with admiration. Liam had seen the boy come in far more than most, and very rarely with his own injuries. He liked to look around for anyone hurt and bring them to Liam. The man almost had no need to advertise with that sort of help. He often wondered if the boy would take up medicine, someday. He had so much interest in it now.

The doctor grabbed the bag, saying, "Could you show me the way, son?" He flipped the sign at the door to say "Doctor Is Out."

"Sure thing, doctor!" Kyle cried, running through the door.

A bit more slowly than the boy, but with a determined step, Liam followed, recrossing the beach he had recently walked around on. He must have been somewhat close to the injured man when he had reached the far side. Perhaps a younger man would have gone further, found the poor fellow first, but Liam avoided the rocks when he could. He'd taken one too many falls there in younger years. His hips never played as well as they once had.

The beach behind him, Liam began to weave around the rocks as much as he could, avoiding all but the shorter ones. Kyle was hopping from large rock to large rock, stopping to look back and wait for Liam to come closer.

"Just over there," Kyle exclaimed. "A few more boulders."

"Coming," Liam said, making his way slowly between two large boulders.

The boy hopped down from a rock ahead, and was out of view. Liam worked as quickly as he was able, his right hip already giving him a bit of an irritation. The heat in among the rocks was worse than on the beach. Their enclosed space and hard surfaces all seemed to absorb the heat and radiate that same heat back at him. As it was still so early, he knew this place would become sweltering in but a few hours.

At last, Liam came upon a hollow, deeper inset that the spaces he had crossed so far. If he didn't know better, he would think it was like a protective nest. At the centre, a young man - much younger than he had expected - was curled up in a ball, moving gently with the intake and exhale of breath. Carefully descending, he reached the spot and knelt down beside the standing Kyle. The young boy looked down, worried, but also interested. Liam's attention was not on him, but the other boy.

The attire the boy wore was strange. His attire consisted of a long robe, an odd emblem on the front, like a crest he did not recognise. Knitting his brows, Liam gently straightened the boy out, checking his pulse, temperature, and examining him for injuries. He had a rather nasty looking old scar on his forehead, but otherwise most of his injuries were small, cuts and slices that looked to Liam as if someone had run through thick brush. Perhaps he had run through the botanical gardens? Nothing serious, though. The boy just appeared to be asleep.

"Son?" He asked, gently tapping the boy's shoulder.

There was no reaction. Liam frowned. If it was sleep, it was a deep one. He couldn't rule out drugs of some kind. Liam couldn't smell alcohol, but there were a number of substances that could be consumed that would have a similar effect. Nothing in his travel pack would provide a proper result, however. He needed to get the boy to a hospital to be tested thoroughly. Then, too, they might be able to figure out who he was. Going through his pockets, Liam found something rather curious.

"Is that a stick?" Kyle asked, looking at what Liam was holding.

Liam held it up. The stick was twenty to thirty centimetres long. It was certainly made of wood, a light tint at that, but Liam didn't recognise the type of wood. Rather than natural, it appeared man-made, crafted for a purpose.

"What's he have a stick for?" Kyle asked. "He getting into some trouble?"

"I suppose," Liam said, turning it over in his hand, "it could be a fancy switch for animals, or some instrument for handling something delicate to the touch…"

"It's weird," Kyle said.

Liam just nodded, his curiosity raising.

"Run and get old Smith," Liam said. "We can take him over to his shop. It's closer than my office, and take care of him in the short term."

"Okay!" the boy cried, running off as fast as his legs could take him.

"Watch your step!" Liam cried after him, muttering to himself. "Fool boy will crack his head open."

After Kyle's footsteps faded, Liam deposited the boy's possession back in his his pocket. He had found nothing else on him. Glancing around, Liam leaned in close, looking at the face. He didn't recognise it, and that was something of a worry. Travellers getting injured could be bad for tourism, bad for everyone. He still didn't know what was wrong, but he had a better idea.

"Who are you and what brought you here?" Liam muttered.

He looked around at the surrounding space. It wasn't easy to get in here, whatever Kyle had made of it. A sick or intoxicated person could certainly not manage it without a strong desire. The boy would have had to either go over the top or squeeze carefully through one of the boulder gaps. The others he could see were even thinner than the one he had come through. Smaller than Liam the boy might be, but not that much.

The mystery was deepening in Liam's eyes. He almost hated sharing it. A part of him wanted to work it out for himself, but he didn't have what he needed, not here. Besides, he had chosen his specialisations. He would expect others to come to him for the things he specialised in, and he would do them the same courtesy.

Before too long, Albert Smith, the local grocer inched his way into the clearing with as much ease as Liam had had. He looked down the way to see the pair of them.

"The boy?" Liam asked.

"He pointed me to you," Albert said, "and I sent him on his way. His mum was asking after him."

"Good man," Liam said, looking down. "This doesn't need other hands."

"We carting him to the hospital?" Albert asked. "Kyle said something about bringing him to my shop, but you know we can't do that. He'd scare away my customers."

"I think we'll need to take him _through_ your shop," Liam said. "This is beyond my skill, I fear."

"All the more reason to take him to hospital," Albert said, frowning, confused.

"Look what he was carrying," Liam said, pulling out the stick.

"Wha-?" Albert said, eyes widening. "You don't think? But couldn't you take care of him? He just looks like he's sleeping. Do we need to-?"

"He won't wake," Liam said, emphasising his next words. "I think he needs a different specialist."

"Fine," Albert said. "Fine. Just fine. I'll help you carry him, 'round the back, mind."

They each took an end, Liam carrying the boy by the feet and Albert under the boy's shoulders. The way was slow and winding, and Liam quickly wished he could have done something to help in place. Lifting was not part of his daily work or exercise. Grunting, Albert worked in silence, but Liam was sure the man was just as curious about the boy as he was.

The rocks finally, cleared, they had the easier task of crossing a patch of beach, a street and entering the grocery that Albert ran. The streets were still empty. Most were still getting ready for work. He had been lucky, actually, that the boy had been found so early and that Albert was already at work. Of course, Albert generally was the first in the area to rise. He had to have all of the fresh deliveries stocked and shelved before the first customers arrived. Only the bakers kept hours similar, and they were less visible on the street while they prepared the buns, baguettes and other breads.

Entering the delivery entrance of the grocer, Albert looked around. With no one in view, he led Liam through to the manager's office.

"Set him here," Albert said. "I need to remember how to get this…"

They put him down and Albert approached a wall with a single old painting of the Queen on her coronation day. The colour had long faded and the material was worn, creased. He had never put glass in front of it, so any contact would have had an impact over the years. Albert nodded to himself as he felt under the painting with a finger.

A click sound followed and a portion of the wall rolled out of the way. Returning to the boy's shoulders, Albert lifted him with Liam's help. The pair carried him down a pair of stairs with dim lights that hadn't been tended to in years. Liam was half surprised they worked at all. Neither of them ever had a reason to go down there. Liam heard the door slide shut with a click behind them.

At the bottom of the stair, they turned down a hallway to the left, and found their ears suddenly assaulted by raucus laughter. Setting his face in a grim one, fighting his irritation, Liam continued into a bar that was the scene of yet another angry shouting match between the owner and a drunk customer. The rest of the bar roared, watching them.

"And you, Aaron D. Wilson," the bar owner said, her hands firmly on her hips, "get out of my bar."

"Make me, witch!" the man named Aaron spat. This elicited a few laughs and some shaken heads.

"Think yer funny, eh?" she demanded. "I'll send ye out on yer ass. How funny'd that be?"

"Like to see yer try," Aaron hooted, slapping the side of his stool.

"As ye like," she said, whipping out a wand, and sending him flying through the door with a flick of her wrist.

The man barely had time to look surprised before he struck the door and kept moving. The proprietress' eyes shot to everyone else.

"Anyone else think they're smart?" she asked.

"No, Madam Mastra," a number said at once.

She nodded. "Good."

Then her eyes raked over everyone, stopping at Albert, the boy and Liam. Liam winced under her fierce gaze.

"What's yer story?" Mastra asked. "If he's too drunk, ye gotta go."

"We're just on our way through," Albert said. "The… boy needs a Healer, we think."

"Think?" she asked. Then she frowned. "I don't think I've seen you here before. Strangers?"

"I run the shop upstairs," Albert said. "I was asked to… watch over the entrance there. And Liam is a local doctor. He found this boy, and he's got a wand and all."

"Found a boy, did he? Muggle like him?" Mastra asked.

"Nah, I know that man," said one of the men at the bar. "Ol' Liam O'Shaghnessy. Never thought you'd step foot down here again."

"Not by choice, mind," Liam said, his lips tight. "Just taking care of a patient. Can we pass through? I don't know what's wrong with him."

Mastra flicked her chin to her right. "Over there. One a' you know the way?"

"I do," Liam said, not giving Albert time to reply. "Let's go."

They made their way into the back, passing around the bar and all of the patrons. Liam received a number of dirty looks. He shrugged them off, as he had long done. It was a good reminder that this was not his world. He just wanted to get back to his practice. A patient, however, needed care. And this was the best he could do.

"Push that torch and I'll get the far one," Liam said as they siddled up to the wall.

Stretching Liam could reach the torch at the same time Arnold did. With a familiar click, the wall dissolved away, revealing an open field - the strangest thing that Liam had never gotten accustomed to. A large hill arose in front of him, and he knew where he needed to go. They kept walking, the strain reaching impossible proportions, but he kept going. He didn't want to let the boy go until they reached their destination. If he remembered correctly…

"Just over that hill, right?" Arnold asked. "Yeesh, it has been a long time."

"Not long enough in some ways," Liam muttered.

They reached the peak of the hill and Arnold paused to look. Liam wanted to charge on, but he had to wait for the man. The valley stretched out below them, vast, wide and full of houses and shops, broadways and alleys. This was one of the largest wizarding cities in the world, and it was an impossibility. Liam had heard once that the space it covered was several times the size of the landmass outside of it. How they managed it, he couldn't say. He didn't like thinking about it.

Scrunching his nose, he commented. "Come on. You'll need to get back to your grocery."

"Yeah, yeah," Arnold said, never taking his eye off the view. "Let's go."

They descended the hill, grunts becoming a bit deeper for both of them. As strong and burly as Arnold was, he never carried anything this far, and Liam was sure he had taken on the lion's share of the weight. The nearest Healer, though, should be just at the edge of the city. Liam could remember it was around the middle, a brown cottage styled place beside one of their fancier, modern high rising buildings.

The funny thing with the wizards was the magic they put into everything. Some of the buildings had impossible architecture for no visible reason. Buildings made huge arcs that just barely missed touching the ground beside them. Some had tiny points on the ground to create enormous and - no doubt - heavy tops dozens of metres above. Some wrapped, sinuously around several other buildings. Liam ignored it all. He had seen it before, and it didn't impress him one bit.

They came to the cottage he had seen before, and rapped on the door. After a moment, a young woman came to the door. Her face hardened when she saw them, and she nearly closed the door. Liam caught it.

"Please, we've found someone and-"

"I don't serve Squibs, alright?" she said.

"Hey, don't-" Liam began.

"It's not for us," Albert said. "We found a young wizard up by the beach. He's not hurt in a Muggle way. We brought him here. I'm sure you can take care of him."

"I don't do charity cases," she said, looking at the state of the boy in their arms.

"I'm sure he'll pay you when he's better," Liam said. "Or your Ministry or whatever. He's a wizard, so he's your problem."

"What makes you say he's a wizard?" she asked, suspicious. "Don't flog off your problems on me."

"He's got a wand, alright?" Liam said. "Check his pocket if you like. And look at this robe. I thought it was weird the moment I saw it. It must belong to your lot."

"That remains to be seen," she said, her eyes narrowing as she unfolded the cloth about the crest. "Hmmf, British kid. Fine. The Minister'd have my head if I send away a British kid. He's got enough problems with them these days. May just send him back where he comes from."

"Fine, do what you like," Liam said, getting more irritable.

"Can we put him down?" Albert asked.

"Squibs!" she exclaimed, waving a wand and lifting the boy out of their arms with magic.

She floated the boy into the office, setting him on a table in the centre. "That all? What's his name?"

"No idea," Liam said. "Like we said, we found him. He could be anyone."

"Yeah, sure," she said. "Well, say goodbye. Best you get yourself out of this. You're not welcome in the city, you know."

"I am aware," Liam said, his eyes hard. Before he turned, he waved at the kid, mentally wishing him luck with that lot. "Lad, welcome to Gibraltar."


	4. Chapter 4: To Wake in Places Unknown

Harry's mind was a blur. He saw faces, heard voices, but indistinct. They could have been near or far; he was not sure he would have been able to tell, either way. His memory was sharp, however, and - in the quiet moments - it replayed itself over and over. He saw those last moments: his capture, escape, reunion with Hermione, and everything up to the moment that light took him in.

Even though he couldn't say why, that light had been comforting. It had taken him away, but where had he gone? And why wasn't he aware of Hermione? Wouldn't she be there with him? Wouldn't her voice be among those that he had heard in this haze? Or had the room, the school, failed? Was he captured by Voldemort or those Silver Scions? Likely the latter. Voldemort had seemed pretty happy with killing Harry outright. The Scions probably still wanted to install Riddle in his mind.

If he was conscious, Harry would have shuddered at that thought. Having Riddle touch his mind once was awful. The anticipation of a repeat performance was worse. Harry thought he might have some small inkling of what Ginny had gone through, if on the tiniest of scales. Ginny had had Riddle inside of her for months, Harry moments. Riddle had never fully taken control in Harry's case.

"Non-responsive… I know… you… I wouldn't try that? … Of course, I … They just left him… I know I … fine… but… okay."

Harry felt some pressure in his head. Was that real or had he imagined it? Where was he? A murmuring, like someone whispering on the other side of a busy library hummed in his ears continuously. At least, it felt like it. What was that sound? Was it the same voice he had just heard? He couldn't remember if that had been male or female. Maybe it just in his head.

"Perfect," someone said as Harry saw a blaze of light across his vision. He had seen only darkness before. The echoes of the light slowly faded, senseless patterns in green and red hues dimming into the black he had become comfortable with. Was it a dream? Was he actually awake, seeing light through his eyelids?

"I think he blinked, sir," said a woman. "I could swear that eyelid moved."

"Yes, I think we unblocked it," the man, the sir the lady had spoken to, replied. "I've never seen that much magical build up. What did this child do?"

"You know as much as I do," the woman said.

"Well, I think we've done what we can for him at the moment," the man said, warily. "He didn't have any identification, at all?"

"No," she replied. "Just as you see him."

"The Watch are going to raise hell for that," he said. "I'd better go report him."

"Really?" She asked. "He's just a kid."

"Rules are rules, Julia," he replied. "You of all people should know that…"

"Yeah, but maybe I think we should hear what he has to say before he gets tossed in a cell," Julia replied. "Eric, honestly. Just because he doesn't have ID doesn't mean…"

"You've seen the decree," Eric said, terse. "I'll be back in an hour. Maybe they'll let us finish the Healing before they take him off for questioning. For all we know he could be in one of those subversive groups."

After a brief silence, Harry heard a door slam. His head swam a bit, but he got impressions, more visual bits. Maybe his eyes were working better? He could have imagined it, but there seemed to be a woman standing over him, blonde with messy hair tied haphazardly in a ponytail behind her. Her face he couldn't quite focus on, but it was facing away from him.

"Damnit, Eric," she muttered. Then, looking down, she squinted at him. "Are you awake, kid?"

Harry groaned. It was the best he could do. For some reason or other his tongue didn't seem to want to obey his thoughts. Nothing else did, either. He felt a surge of exhaustion that coursed from one end of him to another. At the same time, acute pain began to blossom from his appendages. That was something, though. Pain, any sensation at all was more than he had felt before.

"Look, kid," she said, frowning. "The Watch will be here soon. They're taking anyone without papers, IDs, you name it. If they so much as look at you they'll have you in a cell. I can't say as I know you, but you seem a magical type, Hogwarts and all that. You should get yourself scarce. I can't help you… they'd question me for it. But… I can go out for some potion ingredients. If you happen to… leave while I'm out… You follow?"

Harry tried to make a sound, but his throat was still not working well. His face seemed more flexible than before, but he still felt drained. The woman named Julia frowned more deeply. She marched out of view.

"Now, if they find this, I don't… but you shouldn't be found like this. You deserve some bit of a chance, at least. I think so. I don't know what they're up to, but just… get out and lay low. They should raise the border block in a few days, I'm sure, so you'll be able to make your way home, then. No one really checks identification, usually. We're all wizards and witches, eh? We can do magic. That's what matters. I'll give you a little sip…"

She returned and he saw her holding a jar. "Look, it's just a mild Strengthening Potion. I don't think it will hurt you. You're looking better, just weak. Get yourself out while I'm gone and…"

Julia fed him a bit of the potion. Harry felt something surge through him in a rolling blast of energy. The pain in his limbs faded, reducing to a mild throb. The weakness he had felt before dissipated, and he could pull himself up to a seated position within seconds. The woman had stepped back, looking alarmed.

"Look, just go," she said.

"B-but, w-ho are you?" He asked. "Wh-where -?"

Julia's eyes widened. "You shouldn't remember me, okay?" she suddenly snapped. "Don't try. Please."

"Where am I?" Harry managed, his eyes wide.

He looked around, for the first time. It appeared to be a Healer's shop. The walls had sketches of bodies and lists of potions, spells and other general information about magical maladies. By the time he had looked around, the woman named Julia had left, the door shutting hard behind her. Harry remained seated for a moment, considering.

The last thing he had been sure of was escaping Voldemort. Here he was, in a foreign shop, one he was sure he had never seen, and some man was going to hand him over to something called the Watch, and the woman wanted to help, but was scared of being seen helping him. What was going on? Where was Hermione?

The urgency of the woman's voice, though, came back to him, dispelling the immediacy of those questions. He needed to get out of the shop and find somewhere else to be before this "Watch" showed up or he collapsed again. Harry wasn't sure how much of the potion she had given him. It had kicked in quickly, but maybe it would fall over just as quickly. He didn't want to risk falling over halfway to the door. If he was going to move, now was the time.

Pushing back the blanket over his legs, Harry forced them over the edge and let them fall to the ground. It wasn't very far below, so he could sit with his feet planted. Relieved, Harry tested his feet. They appeared steady. With a heave, he came to a standing position. Though shaky, he felt strong enough to move. First, though, he felt in his pockets. His wand!

Harry looked around. The nearest table had a few articles, implements of the Healing trade, and one addition. His wand, its wooden form was still intact, still - he hoped - functional. If he had been hurt with magic, he couldn't imagine what it might have done to his wand. Still, no time to test that out just now.

With careful steps, he made his way to the door. Voices on the other side, however, forced him to stop. Harry listened, unnerved, at what he heard.

"I can't believe I found you so fast, officers," the man he had heard before - Eric was it? - spoke. "I bet he's part of that insurgency. Got a blast of extra magic in him, probably from an overpowered spell, but that'll wear off soon. You'd better hold him first. Never know. Never know."

"You have done well to bring this to our attention, citizen," a harsh voice replied. "We cannot allow interlopers to disturb the peace."

"Yes, yes," Eric said. "Just this way."

Harry's mind raced. He couldn't Apparate. He had no idea where he was or where he might end up if he tried. Harry also had no idea how many officers were outside the door. He turned around, looking quickly. No other exits and the windows appeared sealed. Then, his mind struck on the solution. Steeling himself, Harry pulled out his wand, hoping it was still functional. With a burst of hope, he was happy when his wand reacted, casting a half dozen spells under his breath. Then, he stepped into the corner behind the door. All he could do now wait and hope they weren't too clever.

The door opened, and the officers entered, following a short, balding fellow with a very excitable manner. He loped in backwards, looking at the officers in a grovelling manner and pointing over his shoulder.

"He's just there, see?" Eric said. "I did good, didn't I?"

"Who's where?" the same officer replied, his voice strong and hard.

Harry had a closer look at the officers as they crowded into the small space. They wore grey-black uniforms with an identical badge on their upper right breasts. It was a stitched image of a wand broken in half, sparks flying out of the point of the breakage. The leader, himself, had a sharp look in his eyes as he surveyed the room, his face not leaving the little man who had brought them here.

Eric looked about, panicking when he realised the patient had gone. "But..where has he gone?" he asked, running over to the bed and flipping the blanket over.

"Search the man," the commander said. "And check the room. This could be a trap."

"No, I swear, it isn't!" Eric replied. "Two Squibs brought him in and my colleague saw him. We administered to him to save-"

"Aiding an alien is perhaps not the defence you want for wasting our valuable time," the commander said as the officers ran wands over him and shone their wands into ever nook of the room.

Harry felt the wand light run over him, and held his breath, hoping beyond hope that his spells would hold long enough to get him out of this. The officers returned to the commander.

"It's clear, sir," one said.

"He's clean," another said.

"Take him in," the commander said. "I'd like to know why he decided to deliberately waste our time when we have much more important work to be done."

"No, but I only wanted to help!" Eric pleaded. "I only wanted to do what we're supposed to."

"Come," the commander said, marching off. "We still have half a city to search."

The officers departed, swiftly, leaving little sign they had been there. Harry waited ten seconds after they had gone before he let himself breathe in again. Air came in little gasps for a minute. He tried to keep them quiet while listening without. Nothing came through the door, however. He had avoided them, for now. At least he knew something of what he was watching out for. This Watch did seem to be prevalent if they had been able to come within a couple minutes.

His head was clearer now. He had to get out. They could come back as easily if they used Veritaserum or… worse and determined the man was telling the truth. Inching the door open, he looked out. It was light out, but dimming. Harry sensed he had woken in later twilight. At least darkness might make hiding easier, if he could find out where he was. He needed to find safety, and then he could send a message to Hermione and the others, to reunite with them.

The street was empty when he looked. No one passed in the minute he watched. Moving quickly, Harry slipped out and closed the door, hoping it made little sound and the slight movement wasn't noticeable. Looking around more properly, Harry could see he was on a long street with buildings varying from one to five floors, at most. To one side was a wide open space, a green bit of hills that rolled off towards the sunset.

Frowning, he tried to work out what city this was. It wasn't like any part of London or any other city he could remember visiting. The style was similar to those found in some parts of England, but the road was odd. In the centre there was brick, then a pair of lines of something that looked a lot like tile, and the outer lines were of a gilded stone. No cars lined the streets. Perhaps it was a magic only city? But where could he have found a magic only city of the size he was seeing?

In all directions, the city rose in varying heights, some low some quite high, but all in an older brick style, even incredibly tall buildings. Muggles never built with brick as high as some of those buildings went. Only magic could have kept it up. This was far too large for any part of Wizarding London, much less any other town or village in England. He couldn't be anywhere near home.

As the enormity of what he faced hit Harry, he felt a stab of pain in one leg, and his arms began to feel heavy. Staggering, he hurried down the street, fighting off the weakness that threatened to take hold. The longer he could hold out, the further he would be from where they might look for him. Then… he could what? Maybe he could find a way to send an owl back home? There was little chance communication or Apparition would get him back directly. Without knowing where he was, Apparition still remained dangerous. Trying to Apparate too far could kill you. It took an incredible amount of magic to go that little bit more than a normal trip. The further you went, the more power you needed.

His mind started trying to calculate distances he could Apparate, but he shook his head. Maybe he was getting delirious again. The castle had sent him away, for whatever reason, it had sent him this far. The extra energy had made him ill. There was no chance he could replicate the same amount of Apparition on his own. He could do it in hops if he knew where he was going, which he did not. To do otherwise was quite risky.

Harry's legs wandered, and he felt everything start to dim. The dusk had settled and night was falling, but the weight of his body also began to settle in his bones. He felt rather than saw his spells break. The energy to maintain them had passed. Harry found himself uncaring if anyone had noticed. All he could think of was keeping his feet falling one in front of the other, making progress.. progress somewhere.

His head began to fuzz again, Harry saw figures on the street ahead, tall shapes. Were they marching? Did they see him? Would they take him away? Had all of this been for nothing? He knew nothing about this group. They could be related to Voldemort for all he could tell, but he couldn't take the chance they might be. Harry swept to the right, going down a long alley that led onto another main street. This one appeared less busy, but Harry couldn't trust his own eyes now. In the darkness, with the tiredness hitting him, Harry was struggling.

"Oh my, dear! Dear!" came a cry from nearby. "This boy looks hurt!"

"Comin'!" came another. "Ah, yeah, he looks a bit beat up. Bet a bit 'a yer soup'd make 'im right."

"'m okay," Harry muttered, trying to wave off the people.

"Nonsense, son," the second voice said, an older man, he thought. "We'll get ye off the street an' all. Look, no one should be out after curfew anyhow. Come, have a kip. It'll be alright."

"I-I…" Harry tried to speak.

"Get him to the table, Fred," the woman said.

"I got him, Agnes," Fred said. "Got him alright. No one else out there. Musta been wandering a while."

"Too much of that lately," the woman muttered as Harry was dropped into a chair.

"I need-" Harry began, trying to rise.

"You need to sit," the man said, shutting the door and sitting in front of Harry, looking him over. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder to hold him still. "Let me look you over."

"Here's that soup, Fred," Agnes said, "I'll get the Heal-kit. He looks like he could use a nice soother."

"Do that, dear," Fred replied. "Don't you worry a tick, boy. My Agnes could fix a crippled Manticore with a single bandage."

"Oh hush," the woman said, sitting beside the man with a box in hand. She rifled through it. "Ah, here it is. Just a drop in his soup an' he'll sleep alright."

"Who -?" Harry began.

"Agnes and Fred Dunrow," the woman said. "You seem a little out of sorts, son, so no need for introductions tonight. We'll let ya eat an' sleep. Our home is yours, as long as you need."

"As long as he needs?" Fred asked. "Come on, this ain't no boarding house."

"Hush," she said, shushing her husband. "He'll be up an' able to help about the house in no time. Besides, look at his robe. If he had to flee here, where's he going to go?"

"Ah, thought that looked a might familiar," Fred said, he scratched his head. "Well, at least 'til they raise the block, then. But then, he should be gettin' on. I mean, he'll have people lookin' for him, nah?"

Harry's strength had faded. He could listen, but not respond. He couldn't protest that he needed to get back to school, that his friends could be in trouble. He couldn't manage to do much of anything. The woman, seeing his weakness, helped feed him the food. Harry couldn't make much of what he saw. The pair were older, but he got the sense of something that reminded him of Mrs. Weasley in her manner. The man was a bit gruffer than Mr. Weasley, but together it felt… safe. Maybe he was, for now. That thought carried him as he drifted into deep, dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5: The Situation

Harry awoke early in the morning, his eyes adjusting quickly to the moderate darkness. He had a moment of confusion. The outline of the room around him was unfamiliar. He'd been… the city! He was on the run… Someone was after him. Not Voldemort…but someone? Where was he?

He found his limbs free, and that gave him a feeling of relief. Breathing deep, he lifted his feet out of the bedclothes, gingerly setting them onto the cool, wood floor. While he carefully began moving, Harry looked about. His wand was on an unfamiliar bedside table. The rest of the room was mostly shrouded in deep shadows. The only light sources he could find were slivers around the edges of some window shades. The pin-width strips of light did little but illuminate the shades themselves.

Gathering his wand and the shoes he found on the floor just beside the bed, Harry crept to what he thought must be the door. Other than his flight, Harry could not remember exactly how he had come here. Was he trapped? Maybe… but he did have his wand. An enemy would hardly have let him keep it.

Fumbling for the door knob, Harry found it a little lower than he had anticipated. Turning the knob, Harry winced as the door squeaked loudly. Moving it as slowly as possible, Harry pulled it inwards. It opened into a hallway. With a brief glance, he could see what could be a front-facing door, a trio of glass pane squares placed high on the wood, above his head. The hall stretched the other direction with a couple more closed doors until opening into a tiled room at the end. The far end was lit, and steam obscured the room's contents.

Deciding quickly, Harry turned to the front door and moved quietly forward. His hand had just touched the door knob when it turned on its own and the door opened inwards. Having nowhere to go, Harry's hand twitched to his wand, and had only raised it halfway when the man coming through the door started with surprise and crying out.

"What 're ya doin' son?" the man asked, looking behind him as he did and shutting the door quickly. "Want to draw attention?"

"That you, Fred?" came a woman's voice from down the hall.

Harry squinted. "Do I-?" He remembered something. "I… I think I met you, yesterday?"

"Boy, your head's been rattled," the man said, "come on. Agnes'll have something for you. You'll not be ready to go out just yet, I'reckon."

"What happened?" Harry asked, scratching his head as the man led him down the hall.

"You stumbled outside last night, lad," the man said. "We brought you in, Agnes fed you and we gave you Will's old room for now."

"Oh, th-thanks," he said. Shaking his head. "I don't… I don't know why everything feels so vague."

"Come in, come in," said the woman named Agnes. "You woke him already, Fred?"

"He was tryin' to leave, I think," Fred chuckled.

"Before breakfast?" she asked, back at the hob. She looked around, scandalised.

"I think he was a wee bit confused, m'dear," Fred said, slapping Harry hard on the arm. "Sit there, lad. We'll set you right."

Harry found himself seated by a little fireplace, growing warm, as he was passed a cup of tea and shortly provided a plate heaped with eggs, toast, and ham. All of this came in a flurry of movement, and it wasn't until he began to eat that he had time to form up any questions.

"Where am I?" he asked. "I woke up in this city yesterday, but no one has told me where I am."

"Oh, you remember that much?" Fred asked. "You were pretty quiet last night, I'd say.'

"Oh, do beat around the bush a bit more, Fred," Agnes said, wiping off her hands on a towel. Looking at Harry, she said, "You're in Gibraltar, love. We could see from your robes you've come from Hogwarts, but we changed that out. In the current climate…"

Harry looked down, noticing he was wearing a very plain set of robes. He did not recognise them. In his hurry to leave, he hadn't so much as looked down before.

"Gibraltar," he managed, thinking. "That's…. south, near Spain, yes?"

"Oh, good," Agnes said, chuckling. "At least some up there have remembered us."

"Too many, I think," Fred muttered.

"Not now, Fred," Agnes said. "What's your name, love? We had time to introduce ourselves, but you weren't in a good way last night."

"M-my name is Harry," he replied.

Agnes said, "Well, Harry, dear, I think it's best you stay with us for a bit. It's not safe out there for young men to be running around."

"But, I - my friends, they could be in trouble," Harry said, not thinking that he should hold it back.

"Why?" Agnes asked, her eyes looking both concerned and a bit wary.

"I- well," Harry began, hesitating. "I don't know if you've heard much about what is going on in Britain…"

"Not much interest in Gibraltar," Fred said. "The Ministry up there rarely talks to ours… not much interest either way, ya ask me."

"Did you hear about Voldemort?" Harry asked, curious.

Fred nodded, slowly. "Some miscreant up in London, no? I've heard a Brit or two mention 'im, but most avoid the name fer whatever reason."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Harry said, nodding. "He terrified the wizarding community up there, him and his followers. They killed many until he was … defeated."

"Yes, we heard somethin' about it," Fred said. "And?"

"He's… he's back," Harry said. "Not everyone knows it yet, but he's causing trouble again, and … he was attacking the s-school before I … well, before I wound up here."

"And how'd you manage that, son?" Fred asked.

"I don't really know," Harry said. "Few can Apparate that far, and I … I wasn't trying to."

"So, you're afraid for your friends," Agnes said, looking sad. "That's a shame, dear. You must have faith in your friends."

"Are they clever, your friends?" Fred asked, eyeing Harry with a knowing look.

"Yeah," Harry said, absently. His thoughts were on his closest friends, and the faces of so many others who could be in trouble.

"Then, they'll be a'right, I reckon," Fred said. "Clever folks are fine, most ways."

"But I still want to see," Harry said. "I want to make sure they are alright."

"Didn't we tell ya last night, lad?" Fred asked. "No one can go out."

"Decree came out yesterday morning," Agnes offered.

"But, they can't stop you, can they?" Harry asked. "Couldn't I just Apparate out?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Agnes said. "They've closed Gibraltar."

"How can you close it?" Harry asked, confused.

"Ye don't really know what Gibraltar is, do ye?" Fred asked.

"It's a… peninsula," Harry said, frowning. "It's near Africa, … I think it's connected to Spain?"

"You're talking about the Muggle land," Fred said. "We're not exactly in the same place….hmm."

"He needs to rest," Agnes stated.

"I didn't say anything," Fred snipped.

"I could hear you thinking, you old goat," Agnes replied, keeping her voice light. "You wanted to take him out to show him…"

"Show me what?" Harry asked.

"Well, you can't," she said.

"And get him to go for himself?" Fred asked. "Better he has someone show him."

"And _I said_ he needs to rest," Agnes stated, firmly.

"Could you just explain it to me?" Harry asked, desperate for any information. "And why are people stopped from leaving? What's going on?"

"It loses something just hearing it," Fred said, disgruntled. "But fine… Gibraltar lives in a pocket of magical space. The entrance is beneath the Muggle Gibraltar, but the space is much, much larger, nearly the size of your London, I reckon."

"Wow," Harry managed. "I … I never heard that."

"It's not well advertised outside," Fred said. "We don't like too much traffic hereabouts. It's a big, insular community, mostly."

"Then, the ban?" Harry asked. "Did something bad happen?"

Agnes shrugged. "A decree went out," she said, "and they'll lift it in a few weeks, I am sure."

"Does this happen often?" Harry asked.

"Every once in a while," Fred said. "As I said, we don't get on much with outside much. If anything's going on in nearby ministries, they usually close the entry and exit. Don't mean much to most of us."

"But what about the soldiers?" Harry asked. "I saw some raid a healer yesterday. They took a man away."

"Oh-" Fred said. "Don't worry about that."

"Nothing to concern yourself with, dear," Agnes said, looking worried. "If you don't cause trouble, you won't get in any."

"She always says that," Fred said, smiling, "and it's true. Soldiers are always looking for troublemakers. I reckon yer a smart lad. You'll stay out of it, I'm sure."

"But is it like the Aurors?" Harry asked. "Are they looking for Dark Wizards?"

"Just normal, every day trouble," Agnes said, stony faced.

"None of us want any of that," Fred said, his smile nowhere near his eyes.

"Ah, I see," Harry said. "W-well, I don't want any t-trouble. I just want to go home when it's - when Gibraltar is opened again."

"Good," Fred said, his smile more genuine. "That's good to hear, son."

"And you'll have a bed here until you go," Agnes said. "We don't mind, really."

Fred grumbled, but said, "Yeah, 'course. We'll keep ya for a week or two."

"You really don't have to," Harry said. "I mean, I don't have… I have some money back in -"

"Not a - a - what's the word - not a knut of yer Ministry's coin, mind," Fred said, waving him off. "You need a place, and here we are. That's all there is to it."

"Th-thank you," Harry said. "If there's anything I can do to help while I'm here…."

"Don't you worry about it, dear," Agnes said. "I've got the kitchen all set, an' Fred's a layabout, anyway. I'm used to it."

"Oi, woman!" Fred cried, wagging his finger. "I'll have you know-"

Knock. Knock.

The pair froze, glancing at Harry and looking down the hall. Agnes flicked her head towards the door at the same time Fred gestured his at Harry. Harry watched their silent motion, confused. He was about to ask what they were doing when Agnes pulled him by the elbow, shutting him into a cupboard along the wall. As the door shut, she put a finger to her lips.

Then, he could hear the clink of dishes being set in the kitchen sink as the door opened. The run of water lessened the sound from the front. If anything, it sounded like Agnes was washing dishes as quickly as she could manage.

"Good morn', sir," Fred said from the front.

"That's good morning," said a cold, hard voice. "They should at least teach proper English to you people."

Fred muttered, "Apologies, sir. It's just my way."

"We're looking for a boy," the man said.

"A boy, eh?" Fred asked. "Well, my boy left home twenty years hence. Ain't had a child here in years."

"You have not seen any children?" the man said.

"None, sir," Fred said. "We're just simple retirees, the wife and I."

"Your profession?" the man asked.

"Was a builder of fine wands, back in the day," Fred said. "Dunrow's the name. Maybe you heard o' me?"

The voice went on, sounding uninterested, "Any chance a boy could have snuck in when you weren't looking? These old houses can be a bit drafty, holes in places you don't know. No one would blame you if that happened, of course."

"Not as far as I can see," Fred said. "I patched the roof a might bit las' spring."

Harry held his breath. Would the soldier listen? Would Fred and Agnes get taken away like that Healer yesterday? Could Harry do anything about it. In his pocket, Harry's grip tightened on his wand.

"I had a report of a young boy entering this home," the man said. "It was from a neighbour last evening. I will need to inspect the premises."

"I haven't seen a young man, but go ahead, if you must," Fred said. "Can't imagine what fool trouble some boy could get into, but they'll do that. Why, my boy used to get into such as needing a lesson or two, believe you me…"

A stony silence fell as the footsteps approached. Harry drew in a steady, calm breath, keeping his breath as slow and silent as he could manage. If the steps came to close, he would hold his breath. He realised he could have cast a silence spell, but most of those would leave some sign. If the officer was very alert, that would tip him off that something was wrong.

"Oh, Officer, come in," Agnes said, her voice cheery, bright. "Would you have time for a cuppa?"

"No, thank you," the officer said, awkwardly. "I am merely searching for a boy."

"A boy, eh?" Agnes asked. "Can't imagine why one'd come here."

"She ain't the looker she once was," Fred chuckled, earning him what Harry thought must be a smack on the arm from his wife.

"Don't mind him, officer," Agnes said. "Old men can be prickly as manticores when they haven't had their morning naps."

"Where are the bedrooms?" the officer asked, ignoring their talk.

"Everything is just on this hall," Agnes said. "Ours is to the left. The dog sleeps in the one on the right. Not sure where he's run off to. Gets wrinkles in all the bedclothes like no child I ever saw. Disgrace!"

The officer stomped up and down in loud boots, the wood beneath his feet sounding of strain and bowing. The two elderly owners of the home chattered amongst each other, exchanging mild insults. Harry was amazed at the speed with which Agnes had come up with the dog excuse for Harry leaving the bed messy. The officer didn't seem to question it, but did make a show to walk all over.

"Is there an attic?" he asked, returning to the front.

"No, but we've got a very small yard, through this door," Fred said. "I wanted a proper one, but the wife wanted more space inside… So, guess which we got."

A door opened and shut a moment later.

"If you hear or see a boy, report it immediately," the man snapped.

A quick step of the boots followed, drifting into the distance. The door opened and slammed before Harry realised he had held his breath for far too long. He let in air, feeling the cool influx. It was all he could do to not choke and cough.

The door to the cupboard opened after a moment, and Harry found himself facing the old married couple. They looked at him cautiously, curiously.

"So, boy," Fred said. "Why would they be after you, specifically?"

"Who are they?" he asked. "Voldemort wouldn't be here, too, would he?"

"Why would a villain from London follow you all the way here?" Fred asked.

"He couldn't know I was here," Harry said.

"But why would he care?" Fred demanded. "Come, boy. If we're to keep you here, we need to know.'

"My… he-he k-killed my parents when I was a child," Harry said.

"You said he killed many people," Fred said. "Why does that make you-"

"Fred Dunrow!" Agnes snapped beside him. "Show some decency, you old hog!"

"It's a valid question," Fred replied. "Why would he still be after you?"

"As I was saying," Harry replied, "he killed my parents and then tried to kill me. I don't know why, but I didn't die, and he… was defeated. I don't remember it, but everyone knows my name up there and…"

"And he wants to finish the job," Fred replied, looking grumpy.

"Harry…" Agnes said. "The name sounds familiar. There was some news about a family stopping him… and… a boy, I think. He might be…"

"So, what's your plan, boy?" Fred asked. "You going back to that if they're looking for you all the way out here?"

"I have to," Harry said. "I can't leave my friends behind."

Fred smiled, nodding. "Good lad. Foolish, but a good lad at that. I reckon we can keep you here on the quiet for a bit."

"Of course we can," Agnes cut in. "Silly goat. We couldn't kick him out now."

Harry felt a welling up of relief. "Thank you," he said. "You don't know what it means…"

"Well, come on then," Fred said, gruffly, taking Harry's hand. "Can't hide you in the cupboard all day, can we?"


	6. Chapter 6: Deeper Tension

A flurry of robes swept down the long hall. It would not do to be late, not for this meeting. Taking long strides, the Minister for Magic, Arthur Wincress looked behind him only once. When he reached the end of the hall, he laid hands on the horns of a bronze goat, and turned them. Then, with a quick glance, he surveyed the empty hall, before descending through the now-open portal. It shut behind him with a decisive click, and he took a steadying breath. That part was almost worse than what was to follow.

Some part of Arthur had hoped that victory would mean more than this. Why should _he_ be skulking in the halls of his own Ministry? Why shouldn't _they_ have to hide their faces? He knew the reasons, but that didn't mean he had to like them.

The torches lit themselves as he walked. He was certain they were extinguishing behind him as he moved out of their range, but he had never looked back to check. This was not a place where he would choose to linger. Not that he was afraid, far from it. There were just some places a man could not go without picking up a stench.

The Minister prided himself on his look, impression. The robes made a man, after all. If any of _this place_ rubbed off on it… he'd have to buy a new robe, and this one had been one of his recent favourites. Pity. But, one couldn't ignore all summons, even if one is the Minister. His perfectly practiced smile creased into a thin frown as he approached the meeting room. With another breath, he reapplied his confident expression. Would not do to tarnish that image, even amongst these people.

With a flick of his wand, the Minister opened the door, strolling through, ready to beam at the table of - "Oh, Lucius," he said, a little off guard. "I expected … a few more…"

"I thought we ought to have a chat," Lucius said, sending a spell to close the door with a click. He sat back in his chair, looking idle, as was common, but Arthur knew the man better than to think this was a casual conversation.

Arthur gave a slight laugh. "If you wanted a meeting, Lucius, you know my door is always open. I've a bottle of that new firewhiskey distillery, you know the one they're all talking about in the Prophet? Took a little doing, given the demand, but-"

"I thought," Lucius said, his voice no longer lazy, but slow and measured, "perhaps, it was best to speak where no other ears might overhear us."

"What?" Arthur asked, affronted. "You know my office is warded better than anywhere else in the Wizarding world. No one could hear a word of-"

"Better than anywhere _but here_ ," Lucius corrected. "Even we don't know all of the wards _He_ has applied on this room. And some things aren't worth even the slightest risk. Please, do take a seat."

"You seem… troubled," Arthur said, eyeing his old friend carefully. He took a seat across from Lucius, but kept his fingers wrapped around his wand, tapping it on his knee as though it were unintentional.

"The world is troubled," Lucius responded, his voice flat. "But that is not what concerns me, not today, leastways."

"A troubled world provides many opportunities," Arthur said, smiling. "We, men of the world, know that better than most."

"Indeed," Lucius said, nodding. "But it makes me wonder… with such abundant opportunities, how far would one go? A man of the world, as you say, mightn't he cross any line he wanted to get what he wished?"

"I'm not sure I follow," Arthur said, sensing danger. "Are you sure you are feeling alright?"

Lucius studied him, silently. His eyes were alive and tense where the rest of him was still, relaxed. Arthur had always admired Lucius for his practiced calm, his keen sight, and his quick intuition. He felt, for once, the full effect of the three trained upon him. He did not like it.

"Did something happen?" Arthur asked. "I received no summons other than yours tonight. I am afraid I might have missed some news in the rush of the day."

Lucius gave him a flat smile. "None more than the ordinary of our day," he said.

"Not the boy?" Arthur asked. "He hasn't appeared, has he? I have had as many agents searching as we can spare given the… tender nature of the investigation."

Lucius' smile went sour. "No, not the brat," the man said. "If he's smart, he'll have fled the isles. And rumour has it… he was rather intelligent."

"For a pup," Arthur amended. "Untried in the real world. If he isn't drawn back to his friends' sides in a week, I'll eat my Minister's cap."

"Yes, a bit too much of his father and _mother,_ despite his House," Lucius said. "I'd had hopes he mightn't be. Urged my son to watch him, but he became as much the champion of the Mudbloods and fools as ever they were."

"So, he can't be worrying you," Arthur said. "He'll be back and in our hands in no time."

"Don't underestimate him," Lucius said. "He's slipped through too many fingers too many times…"

"I won't, Lucius," Arthur replied. "I've seen him in it, remember? Who was at each task, watching the whelp manage his way past a dragon, the lake, and traps beyond traps. I even dueled him, briefly. Brilliant, if misguided. It's a pity. With training, he could make a great asset to our cause."

Lucius looked ready to spit. His face was red with ire, and - to Arthur's amusement - irritation. It was no easy thing to dig under Lucius' skin. Something really must be bothering him if he was driven to it so quickly.

"So, if it isn't the boy," Arthur said, gladly running the conversation now, "what was it you needed that delays my dinner? You know, I'm happy to be of assistance, so long as it furthers our master's plan."

Lucius' face grew calm again, but Arthur could see that he had a flash of embarrassment, briefer than a blink. This was not the way he had intended the conversation to go. Arthur wouldn't have liked it any other way. If your opponent comes at you in anger, redirect that anger at your opponent, even for an instant, and your leverage triples.

"There is a spy amongst our midst," Lucius said, his eyes quickly scanning the room again before he went on. "I believe he works for that Scions group, or whatever they dub themselves these days."

"Hardly surprising given the circumstances," Arthur said, leaning back. "They have embedded themselves amongst many organisations, from the sound of it. We do have a few in the Ministry I'm having watched, in fact."

"Just watched?" Lucius asked. "Wouldn't-?"

"The Dark Lord makes his plans for his reasons, dear Lucius," Arthur replied. "I do not question orders."

"Nevertheless," Lucius said, "this is no low level Death Eater. I suspect this is someone much closer to us, to the Dark Lord."

"What brings you to this brilliant deduction?" Arthur asked.

"You heard, no doubt, of what happened to Master Lestrum?" Lucius asked.

"A pity, that," Arthur replied, inclining his head. "I understand he was an old patron of your family."

"My family have never needed a patron," Lucius snapped.

"Apologies," Arthur said, a sly smile on his face, "but men like that settle for little less. We'll call it friendship, then, if it suits."

Lucius did not respond to this remark, proceeding, "I suspect his demise was through this agent."

Arthur frowned. "This seems hardly like you, Lucius. Jumping at shadows. Men of his station, they… make many enemies. Any of which could have put an end to him. That he would summon some hidden spy, he who has vocally stayed out of our affairs and - I understand it - theirs, is more difficult to swallow than last year's Bordansk Firewhiskey. A nasty year, that."

"It is not that he died," Lucius said, "it is the circumstances. Before his death, during the same party, he had warned me on my own to stay out of all of this. A ridiculous request, of course, and I rejected his assertion outright. But that he would ask at all has me concerned. It was most unlike him. Perhaps this spy had gotten to him, hoping to wedge between the Dark Lord and myself. Even the blindest of the Scions would know I have long been my master's servant."

"Then, why ask me about it?" Arthur asked, furrowing his brows. "You don't suspect I had something to do with it?"

"You, unlikely," Lucius said. "I know your motivations, well enough. You'd sell your brother for advantage, but Lestrum was still useful and I can see little advantage to you, directly. I must ask something, though, and I want an honest answer. In fact, I insist upon it."

Lucius raised his wand, frowning. Then, he lowered it. He looked Arthur dead in the eye, holding his own steady, unmoving. "Did the Ministry have anything to do with Lestrum's death? Was any Ministry Department looking for a reason to kill him?"

"If there was, no one made me aware of it," Arthur said, honestly. "I did not order nor cause the death of Lestrum."

"You are a shrewd liar, Arthur," Lucius said. "But I can see through it when you do. Thank you, for your honesty."

"Merlin, Lucius," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I know you two were close… but I must warn you, if you're going to shake down all of the Death Eaters around the Dark Lord you will run into some much less… happy to oblige your questioning."

"I am well aware of my colleagues and their propensities," Lucius replied. "I expect you will remain discrete about our conversation?"

"Of course, Lucius," Arthur said.

"Do you have an inquiry going into his death?" Lucius asked.

"I think one of our minor Aurors is on it," Arthur said, "the daughter of Ted Tonks, if I recall."

"Bloody Mudbloods and their spawn," Lucius spat.

"A relative, if I recall?" Arthur said, gesturing with his hand open. "My condolences. In any case, there is someone looking into it. I can see your thoughts. I cannot spare any more of my Aurors. The hunt for the boy is taking enough. If we caught him, the pressure would be off, and I could send another one or two after your killer."

"Who is leading the hunt for the brat?" Lucius asked.

"Scrimgeour is leading the team," Arthur said, "but Kingsley is our best. He's out in front, leading the searchers."

Lucius nodded, absently.

"If you were to find some information, Lucius," Arthur said, "through the boy's friends… perhaps your son could learn something. He was a fellow student, was he not?"

"I fear my son is painted too much in my image for their liking," Lucius said. "From what he has told me, they would give him worse directions than a random Muggle."

"Pity," Arthur replied. "A tap on his friends would be most useful. We've watched the Weasleys, but they're busy with their new venture."

"And the source of their funding for that?" Lucius asked, looking furious.

"That Diggory lad," Arthur replied, sounding like he was repeating old news. "He went into business with them as he graduated and won that tournament."

"And how many do you have looking for the girl?" Lucius asked. "Surely we can divert some of those to…"

"None, Lucius," Arthur said. "She's of little consequence other than a lever for the boy. It's likely they're holed up in the same place, leastways. If she appears, rest assured, she will be well used to end the search."

"Have you no one more than a Mudblood to search for…?" Lucius began.

"Patience, Lucius," Arthur said. "We hold the Ministry. A fringe group is hardly a threat to that position."

"Like we were no threat?" Lucius asked.

"We have something they do not," Arthur said, his smile full, again.

"What is that, Arthur?" Lucius asked.

"Me, of course," Arthur replied, chuckling. "You really ought to lighten up, Lucius. Everything is well in hand. I'll find your friend's killer and you can face him, if you like. You just have to trust that the wheels we turn are strong enough. Now," he stood, "if that is it, I do have a dinner to attend, and I am sure your house elves are quite keen to feed you, as well."

"Arthur," Lucius said, rising with him, "if you hear the slightest…"

"I shall inform you, immediately," Arthur replied. "The Ministry watches out for its friends. And if your son should hear anything useful…?"

Lucius smiled. "I'll hear it and you will, from there, old friend," he said.

"Good," Arthur said. "Now, don't be a stranger. I am holding that bottle, and if reputation matches quality…"

"I may have to take you up on that soon, Arthur," Lucius said, smiling. "Tonight, I think I will have a chat with my son."

Arthur nodded. "Good evening, Lucius."

"Good evening, Arthur," the other replied.

Without waiting, Arthur marched back through the door, down the long hall into the Ministry. The halls were darker when he emerged. He slipped back up to his office, grabbing his hat and briefcase. The old leather slid into his hand like a glove. Arthur had been given it by his mentor, a career politician who had retired some years hence, when Arthur had risen to a seat at the Wizengamot. The bag itself was light, nearly weightless, thanks to some simple spells. Still, Arthur used it. He felt it gave him an every-man image that his employees enjoyed. Whatever made them happy.

Arthur stepped out of his office, shutting the door behind him. He froze as an arm held his chest and a wand point poked his neck. He could not see anything but a gloved hand at the bottom of his sight.

"Late night, Minister?" asked the voice, a muffled sound he could not distinguish as male or female.

"What do you want?" Arthur asked, wondering if he could get his wand out of his pocket before a spell knocked him out.

"Men who look into what is not their business," the voice whispered, "do not, last in this business."

"I'm the Minister for Magic," Arthur stated. "Most things are my business."

"A wise man knows what to do and what not to do," the voice replied.

"Is this about the boy?" Arthur asked. "I'd have thought everyone was interested in finding him."

The person scoffed. "Seek the boy all you'd like. In fact, I'll give you a direction. Call it a gift. Gibraltar has fine weather this time of year."

"A gift?" Arthur asked. "What's the catch?"

"Continue looking into the death of Lestrum at your risk," the person said. "I can find you when I wish, and no one would find you for hours. Think on it."

Then, the hand and wand were gone. Arthur spun around, his wand in hand, but the hall was empty. Either the attacker had an invisibility cloak or some form of silent Apparition. Keeping his wand in hand, the Minister hurried down to the lobby. He knew there would be security personnel there. What good it might do him.

Finding himself shaking a little, Arthur rode the lift down. The emptiness - not even a single fluttering memo - made him feel even more the fear that had gripped him just a moment ago. Was this the person who had killed Lestrum? It would explain how he had been able to take care of that man in the midst of his impenetrable home. But who could sneak up on the Minister without anyone noticing? Someone should have known that someone was sneaking in. Didn't they have wards to warn of intrusion now?

When the lift doors opened, Arthur staggered forward, feeling physically the strain of that sudden fear. He rushed over to the front desk. A young security guard sat there, looking up in surprise when Arthur came to him.

"Is everything alright, Minister?" the young man asked.

"Call a sweep," Arthur said. "Someone threatened me outside my office."


	7. Chapter 7: Resistance

Harry sighed, looking out the slit in the attic window. The bustling city without moved, people, animals and even some buildings making a grand flow that he could but witness. He had come all of this way to sit in an attic, hiding from Guardsmen. Not that he wasn't grateful to the lovely couple that had taken him in. They saved him from whatever fate the Guard would bestow, but … he was bored.

Harry had been so bored, he had been reading their son's old magic textbooks, all basic stuff - things he had learned in his first or second year. They had, unfortunately, not kept any others. Still, the feel of the pages beneath his fingers between longing glances out into the world passed the time and provided a strange comfort.

He just wished they would lift the exit ban, or he had the freedom to go explore the city. The history in it alone… A full city of witches and wizards! Britain had nothing even remotely close to that. There would be libraries, schools, research laboratories… For someone who had seen the wizarding world much of his life at arm's length, living wholly at the school with only the occasional visits outside, it was a dream. If he couldn't go immediately to help his friends, at least he could learn something useful to bring back.

"Lovely city, eh, kid?" asked an unfamiliar voice from very close.

Harry jumped, upsetting the stack of books on the table. The top couple books toppled but immediately hovered and floated back into place. He saw a young man, maybe a year or two his elder, flicking his short, dark wood wand as they resettled. Without much seeming care, the stranger pocketed his wand in his over-large but ragged robes.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, his hand edging near his own wand, just in case.

The young man laughed, his ginger hair and freckled complexion catching the light from the attic slit. Harry started, but then realised this was certainly not anyone he knew, the boy only had the most superficial resemblance to the Weasley family. His facial shape, form and smile were completely foreign.

"Sorry to frighten you," the young man said, offering his hand to Harry. "I'm Barnaby Jones; most just call me Bar."

"Harry Potter," he replied. He took the hand a bit uncertainly.

"You're wondering how I found you here," the man said. "Heard old Healer Tramps was being questioned by the Guard about a foreign boy, and well, I'll spare the details of finding where you were. Thing is, I want to help you."

"Tramps?" Harry asked, frowning.

"Eric Tramps," Bar said, casually. "He was raving about some boy he'd seen to that was brought in by Squibs. Half the neighbourhood heard him."

"But-" Harry said, looking about. "That was far away."

Bar sighed. "Fine," he said. "If it calms you a bit, Eric got a bit of attention. Few folks kept an eye out the window after that. The Healer's office door opened on its own a moment later. Seems a young man who fits your description later was seen stumbling about in the city, looking delirious. He was taken in by the lovely folks here who are in way over their head, if truth be told. Even the Guard has heard as much of these rumours, but they have the subtlety of rampaging dragons. I just walked in the side door and no one's the wiser."

"But why are you here?" Harry asked. "You're not working for the Guard?"

"Phe!" Bar spat. "Tongue be damned with that sort of talk, kid. I'd rather be staked to the rock than work with the likes of 'em."

"I should just take your word on that?" Harry asked, suspicious.

"Shit, kid," Bar replied, chuckling. "You sound like me at your age. What've you been through? Thought ol' Britain was free 'nough."

Harry looked at Bar in the eye. He said, "I don't know what is going on here, but Voldemort has returned to Britain."

Bar scrunched up his forehead, thinking. "That… dark wizard from ages ago? Ah, yeah, I seem to remember hearin' about it. We have our own problems down this way, eh? Best not bring that bloke up, eh? People here have enough fear goin' around. They shut the exits again."

"They do that a lot?" Harry asked, wondering what this Bar wanted.

"More than they say they need to," Bar said, "and they say they need to a lot. Blighters! Prisoners in our own city…"

"Are- are you under attack?" Harry asked, concerned.

"By those bloody Guardsman, yes," Bar said, grimacing. "Always looking for some new threat to hang over our heads, aren't they?"

"A threat, like what?" Harry asked.

"Foreigners, mostly," Bar grumbled. "They're always like to destroy everything we love, right? As if we're children who'll believe everything they say."

"But why?" Harry asked.

"There's the question," Bar said, lighting up. "Nobody knows, for sure. Some think those in charge really are afraid of the foreigners. Some think they're just trying to be safer than sorry and the like. But some of us… we think it's an effort to control us. Yeah."

Bar tapped his nose at the last looking at Harry as though he were a knowing conspirator in whatever Bar was about. Harry kept his expression fairly neutral, only nodding to show he understood. What he didn't understand was why Bar had come here and introduced himself.

"So, Bar," Harry said, trying to get to the heart of it, "why did you come find me here? If the Guard are going after foreigners, wouldn't you be in trouble for being around me?"

"As if anything they thought of me would stop me from doing something," Bar said, laughing. "You being a foreigner is why I came to see ya. I heard about your plight and wanted to help."

"Help?" Harry asked. "How? They've blocked off the exits and we can't Apparate out, or message or anything."

"You're thinking technical, kid," Bar said, chuckling. "The best way to get through a locked door isn't the best tools or spells."

"Huh?" Harry asked, confused.

"It's people, Harry," Bar said. "People who can open the door are far easier to work with than clunky spells to defuse wards and whatever else is in the way. If we find the right person, we could - wait… message? What do you mean, message? Owls could never get out of here."

"Oh, just the Messaging spell," Harry said. "I have tried to reach my friends since I got here, but either it doesn't get through or nothing can get back to me, but I know it works inside Gibraltar. Funny."

"A spell that sends a message?" Bar asked, looking interested. "Look, come with me. We'll work out the people angle for getting you on your way, and you can show me that spell. It sounds quite… useful."

"I don't know," Harry replied, looking at the young man, uncertainly. "I know the Guard is after me and every time I come and go it risks someone else noticing that I _am_ here. You already said that I've been seen once. I'm just creating more risk by-"

"Come on," Bar said. "You're a teen, aren't you? Where's the sense of adventure? Where's the excitement to break a rule or two? Shit, man. You sound like an adult, worrying about things like that."

"I have people relying on me," Harry said. "I can't take unnecessary risks."

"Sounds like you need to take a few more," Bar commented, "but, if it makes you feel better, I'll lead you a sneaky way out that no one will see. Once you're on the streets, no chance they'd know it was you, dressed the way you are now."

"But the Dunrows-" Harry began.

"We'll be back in an hour, tops," Bar said. "I just want you to meet some people. If you're not interested then, I'll bring you back and that's that. If you are, we will meet again. We can use that Messaging you talked about. Eh?"

"I-" Harry hesitated. His thoughts strayed to his friends, far away and maybe in trouble. If this got him home sooner, even a little bit, it could be worth it. What if the hour he could save was just enough to prevent someone hurting Hermione or Fred or George or… so many others. "Okay," he replied. "Just for the hour. Then we'll see."

"Still sounding far too adult," Bar said, "but I like your guts."

Harry soon found himself following the young man into a nondescript building tucked between two large apartment complexes. The faded etching on the glass door said _Elmond's Exquisite Clocks: Time Pieces of Magic and Mystery_. The interior looked as though it had been abandoned for some time. Dusty old empty shelves stood in two long rows along the side walls. Harry felt as though they were watching the pair of them as they walked. Nothing remained of the business, and he saw nothing even remotely clock-like in the time it took to reach the back room.

Bar led Harry through to a packed corner. Glancing about, he squeezed between two teetering piles of boxes. Harry followed a little more easily, finding Bar lifting a rug off of a square shaped wooden door. He pushed down, and gestured for Harry to descend the steps. Harry did, but he kept a tight grip on his wand as he went. If something happened, he would be ready. The young man had done nothing to raise Harry's suspicions, so far, but that didn't mean Harry was going to let his guard up completely.

After shutting the way behind them, Bar passed by Harry and led him down the passage, silently. The only sound Harry could hear was the echo of their footsteps and a distant drip of water. Despite the silence, Harry could tell the young man was very fidgety, worried. He looked behind them often and sometimes paused for long stretches, listening. He didn't use any magic and hadn't since they had left the Dunrow's house.

The young man counted as they walked, his fingers tapping out numbers for a while. Harry lost track after a little time, but it was at least a few dozen before he stopped suddenly, walking to a wall and placing his palm against the bricks. A second later, an outline of white light appeared around a large section of brick. Bar backed away and the bricks flowed away, much like they did at Diagon Alley. Harry watched a room materialise behind it, larger than he would have expected underground. Then again, he had to remind himself, this was not proper ground.

"Welcome, Harry," Bar said, "to the Den."

He waved Harry inwards, and the rest of space came into view. All of the walls were covered in the same sort of brickwork they had seen in the hall. All of it old and moss eaten. The air was stale and cold, but the space was anything but empty. Dozens of young men and women sat about on the many levels that staggered through the space. All of the levels pointed down towards the entrance where Harry and Bar had entered, giving Harry a sense of being in the spotlight. He could see a number of other exits along the elevated half of the room, spaced unevenly and at different heights. The bricks clicked shut behind them, locking Harry in with this large group.

Harry was immediately aware that conversation had stilled the moment they had entered and all eyes in the room turned in their direction. Bar stepped into the centre and raised his hands for attention, but Harry noted he hardly needed to do it. Everyone was already paying them wrapt attention. Wands were still raised over books, hands still held items extended to hand to people beside them. Whatever they had been doing was completely forgotten.

"Fellows!" he said, his voice ringing in the space. "I have returned with good news. The oppression of the Guard will soon be past us. Lo! We have an ally from the world without. Yes, one of the foreigners so maligned by the Guard, the purveyors of lies! He is here and has much to teach us of the outside world. With him, we can rid Gibraltar of this scourge, of the blockade. For in this, our goals align. He wishes to go home, but cannot. We wish for the freedom to come and go.

"But I have sad news, as well," Bar said. "The Guard have seized more people, at random, perhaps, but many. The raids they began last week have continued. Brothers John and Alan were taken with their families. We know they will not speak, but I ask you to keep them in your thoughts. Their return may be long in coming.

"It gives us greater impetus. We must be dedicated, and watch out for each other. I understand Brother William is working his way up from the inside of the Guard. He made Vice Captain this week, and, though he cannot be here at the moment, he is learning many of their secrets. In time, we will use this to expose the corruption and lead the people to replace the Guard with a better, kinder group.

"We grow in numbers, and our message is spreading further still. This day, a message was placed by Brothers Matthew and Steven on the wall facing the town hall, asking for the truth to be spoken. The Mayor cannot ignore us forever. When we have his ear, we will be on the way to success. Until that day, we will carry on, as ever."

"As ever!" cried the group, cheering.

Harry watched Bar, carefully. He seemed to have a good sway with his group, and, so far, he had been consistent with what he had told Harry before. Harry could see in Bar a lot that reminded him of speaking to the DA, how he sought to connect with them, mannerisms. He smiled a little to himself, remembering those good times. If they could get him back and stop Voldemort, those times could come again…

"Now, I would like you to hear from our guest," Bar said, "he comes from England, a student of the school, Hogwarts. His name is Harry Potter."

Bar waved to him, surprising Harry with the sudden change. He stepped forward a little. He didn't know anyone in the crowd. For all he knew they wouldn't listen or care about anything he might say. They didn't look away, but for glances occasionally at their leader.

"H-hi," he said, his voice ringing just as much as Bar's had. "Thank you for the kind welcome. I do not know much about what has happened to you, but… I do know what it is like to live in fear of someone who is after you, someone who would take away your life and freedom. It is a weight, and taken alone it hurts, it can be so hard to bear.

"I… I have tried to carry such weights myself before, so I know that it is not easy. But, I had - _have_ \- friends who have helped me through many things. They have been there for me, and I for them. Together, the weights are lighter. Seeing you, together, working to make things better, that is wonderful. Good can only triumph when it works together.

"I do not know how I can help, but if our aims are the same, I am happy to help. If we can raise the barrier, I can go home. I know you are home, and this is your place to stand and be strong. My home is far away, but not so different. Everyone should feel happy and safe at home. We both deserve that. I need to go make my home safe and happy, too. Before I do, though, I will help how I can to… to make yours a little better."

He smiled as a soft patter of clapping followed. Most looked at him with interest, but not with anything stronger than that. Harry wasn't sure what Bar had expected, but he hadn't won them over in any real way. Perhaps Bar had only wanted them to have a fair working relationship. After all, Harry was meant to leave as soon as he could.

"Thank you, Harry," Bar said. "Now, Harry has much to teach us about magics known in Britain that could help us in safeguarding our own. We have our own help for him. Together, we can bring down the walls, and free Gibraltar, once more. I look to each of you to work with him, and we will achieve what was but a dream before."

Cheers followed. Harry watched them all. Everyone was excited, and he could tell they really admired Bar. It seemed they were in a very difficult situation. It was nothing on Voldemort, but the Guard of the city was taking people away, scaring people for no reason. Harry had seen a man taken away because he said he had seen Harry and Harry had disappeared.

The Guard needed someone to stop them, and Bar's group was working to get it done. If, as Bar said, they could expose corruption, people would listen. Having seen plenty of it at the Ministry, Harry couldn't help but agree that letting a corrupt group do what they want was trouble at best, dangerous at worst. If it meant getting him out and helping the people of Gibraltar, as well, Harry felt it was a good enough cause for him. Smiling, he watched the crowd cheer for their leader. Finally, something was going right.


	8. Chapter 8: Options

Harry took a seat, flopping into the chair with exhaustion. He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned back. In but a few minutes he would have to rush back. The Dunrows would be expecting him. They hadn't asked where he was going every day, but he hadn't volunteered, either. The way he figured, the less they knew, the less trouble they could be in.

Not that there should be trouble. Everyone was being very careful, particularly the group's leader, Bar. He had people check several times before he made a move, and those were all quiet and tentative in nature. He had promised Harry that they would get him out of Gibraltar, but he didn't want to endanger any of his followers. Harry understood that. Caution was a very useful tool in protecting people you cared about.

"Doing alright, kid?" Bar said, taking a seat next to him and slapping Harry on the back.

"Yeah," Harry said, "just a bit tired."

"Well, you're helping the group a lot," Bar said. "I appreciate it. Half the spells you've taught them none of us have seen before."

"No problem," Harry said, nodding.

"You look concerned about something," Bar stated, looking at Harry with a questioning look. He glanced around, and waved off a few of his fellows that were nearby.

Harry saw them depart as though he had given them an order. He frowned.

"Come, what's the face about?" Bar asked. "It's just me."

"I'm just worried about my friends," Harry said. "It's-"

"Nah, not just that," Bar said, quickly. "I have been working with this crew for a while. I can tell when someone's got something on their minds, something they don't want to share."

"I don't- I don't really understand what is going on here," Harry said, tentatively. "Why would the Guard want to control everyone? What do they get out of it?"

"Oh, is that all?" Bar asked, laughing. "You've… you must have been a bit sheltered. I don't know how things are up in England, but you must have bullies there, right?"

"Yes…" Harry replied, thinking of Malfoy and his friends.

"Some of them… they grow up and keep at it," Bar said. "They like to push people around, like to feel in control. And that's like these Guards, particularly the Head of the Guard."

"Commander Josephs, you called him?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Bar said. "The old Head Guard retired and left Gibraltar suddenly last year. Since then, Josephs has been at us for even the slightest thing, taking people off the street for questioning, and some people just never return after a few questions."

"But wouldn't the… Ministry or whatever you have here stop him?" Harry asked. "He would answer to them. Our Ministry may not be the best, but they never let law enforcement go off and cause trouble."

Bar sighed. "The Ministry … yeah, you'd think." He scratched his head. "They've just got no teeth. The Guard does what it likes and tells them what to do. The head of the Guard is more a minister than our actual Minister. Hell, your Minister is, I think."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Your Minister says, jump," Bar said. "Ours asks how high. Always been that way. But that's no matter. You haven't been here long; I get it. You're just seeing a couple things and thinking, hey, they might be the rare occasion. Things have been like this. The Guard weighs heavily on the minds of the city. Just ask anyone what they think of the Guard. What do you think you'll hear?"

"I don't know," Harry said.

"Nothing," Bar replied. "You will hear nothing. They're scared. You've seen that much, right? That fear."

"Yeah," Harry said, remembering some of the initial things he had seen after arriving in Gibraltar. "I guess so."

"That's it," Bar said, smiling. "But it's not your fight, man. I get that. We just help each other until you can go home. That will help us both, right?"

Harry nodded. "The city should be open to come and go. It makes sense."

"Right," Bar said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "We can take care of ourselves after that."

Harry sat with Bar for a moment, trying to think of something to say. He knew it would be similar if someone had come to him. He would want to help, but the needs of the students at Hogwarts would be the highest priority.

"You should get back," Bar said, cutting into Harry's thoughts. "The Guard will be stopping more people as the sun sets."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said. He gave the young man a smile. "I suppose tomorrow will be a busy day."

Harry departed, taking the route he had grown to know back to the streets. Slipping into the flow of people unnoticed, he walked at a casual pace. The people around him were talking quietly in pairs or walking silently. No one appeared to want to draw any attention to themselves. Like Harry. Like the little group. No one wants to be noticed.

A few blocks down the way, Harry felt the crowd move in a big arc, cutting around a cluster of people. When he grew closer, Harry saw it was three Guards questioning someone. No one looked in their direction, but the Guards did not seem to care if anyone noticed or heard them.

"Where were you going?" one Guard asked.

"J-j-just home, it's around the corner," the frightened man replied.

"That's not what it looked like," another Guard said. "We think you were meeting with anarchists."

"What?" the man asked. "I'm a salesman. I don't get involved in politics."

"Right," one said, sounding unconvinced.

Harry had stopped a few steps from the Guard. People flowed around him like he wasn't there. He wanted to stop, wanted to ask them what they were doing. Would that make it better or worse? The group had a plan, a plan that would get him out of here and back to England. That would help all of these people, too. If he jumped in to help this man, he might not get to do any of that.

Someone bumped Harry while walking past, jarring him back into the moment. He had to walk on. The Guard would notice someone stopped. Harry glanced at the poor man being questioned, silently wanting to tell him that Harry would help do something about it. He hated not being able to do anything right now.

"Frustrating, eh?" asked a voice from beside him.

Harry looked up, seeing a middle aged man with a slick and expensive suit looking down at him with a look of interest.

"What is?" Harry asked, hoping the man hadn't seen him standing their watching the Guard.

"Not being able to do something when you would like," he said, chuckling. "Not, for example, being able to return to England because they shut the border."

Harry frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"Some people are looking for you, you know," the man said. "You've got quite a few people worried."

"I don't know you," Harry said.

"That's true," the man said. "But a stranger can help you out, you know. Even if you are Harry Potter."

Harry turned, cutting through the crowd into another side street. Someone who had his name. If it was from someone he knew, they would have come themselves. There were too many people after him for bad reasons for him to believe that it was anything positive.

"You really can't run anywhere, Harry," the man said, following. "Gibraltar isn't so large. The other side might find you, first. You don't want that, do you?"

"Leave me alone," Harry said, taking another turn and speeding up. He walked as fast as he could without running. There was still a danger in getting too much attention.

"Harry," the man said, keeping pace. "Can I call you Harry?"

"No, leave me alone," Harry said. "I don't need your help."

"Come on, kid," the man said. "You need people with influence to get you back home, right? I've been asked to help out. Not a big thing. But you gotta stop a second to listen."

"I've got it sorted, alright?" Harry said. "Don't worry about me."

"Harry," the man said, lowering his voice as he came close. "Dumbledore sent me, okay?"

He stepped in front of Harry, making Harry pause. "Dumbledore," he said. "You know, Headmaster?"

"How can I trust you?" Harry asked. "Anyone could say Dumbledore sent them."

"He said he watched you grow up," the man said. "That you'd be in it too deep already, probably wanting to stop the Guard if you saw them questioning people."

"That's pretty generic," Harry said, stepping around him. "Many might say the same."

"Okay, okay," the man said before Harry walked away, "he said he knows you were hiding in that secret meeting. He knows you were there."

"What?" Harry asked, stopping, dumbstruck. Trying to recover he said, "What meeting?"

"You know the one he means," the man said, smiling. "He wouldn't tell me more about it, alright."

"I-…" Harry hesitated. "How did he find me?"

"Dumbledore knows people," the man said, shrugging. "Will you at least hear me out?"

"Where?" Harry asked, glancing around at the crowd of people moving quickly past.

"There's a cafe around the corner," the man said, looking nervous. "It's pretty quiet at this time of day, so no one will bother us. And it's right by the street, so if you don't like what you hear…"

"Fine," Harry said. "If it's quick. The Guard will be pulling more people up soon."

"No fear of that when you're with me, kid," the man said, walking back through the crowd.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, cautiously.

"Albert Williams," the man said, glancing back to check that Harry was still there. "I was on the Ministry council until last year, so I met Dumbledore on a few of his visits to Gibraltar. He travels around a lot."

"You were on the council?" Harry asked. "Why did you stop?"

"I won't bore you with the politics," Albert replied. "A new council leader came in, and a number of spots changed."

"Sounds like a lot changed in the last year," Harry commented.

Albert said nothing, just walking quietly, his posture a little tired, slumped. Harry noticed the man had thinning hair and wrinkle lines along the top of his forehead. He had that tired, overworked look that Harry had only seen in the odd person at the Ministry of Magic. Most wizards lived to a very old age. This man could not be so old as to be showing those effects as young as he must be. Harry wondered what had actually happened to the man in the last year.

The cafe they entered was small and empty. It had an upper class atmosphere and a waitress took Albert's order for the pair and quickly disappeared. The space was completely theirs. Albert sat them at a small table along one wall, the older man coming to rest with a big sigh.

"So," Harry said. "If Dumbledore did send you, how is he going to get me out of here."

"First," Albert said, leaning forward slightly, "he wanted to tell you to stay calm. Things are not so bad as you might expect back home. Everyone is safe."

"Everyone?" Harry asked, feeling relief in hearing it, even if this was not someone sent by Dumbledore. He wanted it to be true.

"Those were his words," Albert said, nodding. "He said things have calmed and they are working on things. His priority is for you to be safe. So, I can arrange a safer house, if you are interested or need a better place."

"But, how am I getting back to England?" Harry asked.

"You said you had it sorted," Albert said, eyeing him carefully.

"I am working on it," Harry said. "I wasn't about to tell someone on the street everything, was I?"

Albert shrugged. "Fair enough," he replied.

They paused while the waitress brought a pair of coffees to the table, setting a tiny cup of deepest black liquid in front of both. The waitress disappeared seconds later, leaving them again in quiet.

"Dumbledore said to tell you to wait," Albert said. "Let them open the gates again, and we could arrange a safe transit. If you try to break out, it will cause a big commotion and the enemy will know you are on the move."

"How would they know trouble in Gibraltar was from me?" Harry asked.

"You would have to ask Dumbledore that," Albert said.

"How have you been communicating with him?" Harry asked. "I haven't been able to get any messages out."

Albert shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee. "You misunderstand," he said. "I can't speak with him. His message reached me through an intermediary, right? There are still ways to get messages through, but it is difficult and expensive."

"Then, there is a way," Harry said, brightening. "Perhaps I can use that to leave?"

"No, no," Albert said. "He was explicit in this. You can't reach out, not now. You have to wait, be patient. That was his message, be patient."

"But-" Harry began.

Thunk. Albert set the cup down with force. "Look, Harry," Albert said, "I understand you want to make a fuss, want to go make a difference, get back there to look after your friends and family, but if I've learned anything in my years it is this. You listen to Albus Dumbledore. He knows what he's about, alright? If you go charging out there, you'll get arrested here. If you do manage to break out of Gibraltar by some miracle, you'll land in a pile of other trouble back in England. By the sound of it, he's managed to calm the waters enough, but still surface can still have a tumultuous depths. If you want to throw a rock into that, it's your prerogative, but it is the opposite of what your friend, Dumbledore, wants from you.

"Think about the people here, too. If you cause a mess here, we have to live with it. Do you want to leave trouble in your wake?"

"But, how can you let this go on?" Harry asked. "The Guard sounds almost as bad as the Death Eaters. I've seen them taking people away because they weren't happy with the person."

"It's- it's not perfect," Albert said, looking around carefully. "But it's our situation. You have your own to worry about, right? Can you see that? You do understand that Dumbledore took a risk reaching out to contact you? I did too, come to think of it."

"I get it," Harry said, "I don't want you to get in trouble. I just don't like doing nothing. If I'm stuck here, can't I help?"

"I think the best thing you can do is lay low," Albert said. "I said I could make a house available, and that's still open. We can keep you safe and away from any trouble. The house is not far from here and is quite secure. If you want, I could take you there and you won't have to worry about a think until you leave the city. I can't guarantee you will be safe anywhere else in the city."

"I don't know," Harry said. "I don't think I want to replace one prison for another."

"A safer one," Albert added. "If you want to think it a prison, fine, but it's no different than this for you. Both ways you can't leave the city. It's just not possible."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked.

"I helped design the spell," Albert said. "No one is getting out while it is in place."

Harry frowned. Taking a breath, he said, "I will see what I can do while I'm here. Thank you for letting me know what Dumbledore said. If you speak to him… No. I'll talk to him soon enough, after I get out of here."

He rose, the motion rocking the untouched cup of coffee that had sat in front of him. Albert looked at him with resignation, his brow wrinkled, but his eyes knowing that there was nothing he could say at this point.

"Well, if you change your mind," Albert said before Harry left, "call at number six Abbotsford Road. Just give your surname and someone will help you. Okay? I want to at least do that much."

"Alright," Harry said. "I'll remember."


	9. Chapter 9: Break In

The air was heavy, humid, filled with the weight of the deeds to come. Or perhaps that was just how it made Harry feel. Within the hour they were to infiltrate the heart of the Ministry for an artefact that would free the people of Gibraltar.

Bar had come to Harry a few nights before, surprising him in his room as he had that first day. The young man had been so animated, so excited by what they had found.

"It's a Golpwin's Box!" he cried, expectant.

"A what?" Harry asked, scouring his memory.

"What? _You've_ never heard of them?" Bar asked. "You? You've heard of everything."

"Sorry," Harry said, shaking his head. He frowned. "What is it?"

"Hmm, how to explain it," Bar said, gesturing his hand in the air. "Think of a box in a room that contains the room."

"That's… impossible," Harry said, scrunching up his forehead. "The box would be inside itself."

"But in this case it isn't," Bar said. "The box exists but the room does not, except that the box makes the room exist."

"I'm still not getting it," Harry said, confused. "How can it exist and not exist?"

"Urgh!" Bar groaned, exasperated. "Alright, so say you have a magical box. When you activate it, you no longer see yourself in the place you were in before you activated it. You see a new place that it much bigger, but everything is real. In the new space, the box still exists but only a fake one that you can use to change or close the space. When you close the space everything in it would no longer exist. That is Gibraltar."

Harry gaped. No matter how much he learned about magic, it always surprised him somehow. The staggering implications of such a device was hard to wrap his head around.

"That seems… dangerous," Harry said. "Couldn't you kill everyone by breaking it or closing the space while people are in it?"

"The device has protections against such abuse," Bar said. "But that's not the issue. The protective barrier is being used on the device to keep all of us locked in. The Guard can use it to change anything they want about the city to control us."

"Wouldn't people notice if things change?" Harry asked.

"People aren't very observant," Bar said, shrugging. "It is a big city, too. Who would notice everything?"

"I suppose," Harry said, thinking about the Muggles missing magical occurrences and places.

"Now," Bar said, "my lot have scouted it out. They've got the Golpwin's Box tucked in a secured room at the top of Ministry Tower with a bunch of useless, dusty old relics. It's meant to be golden with a faint green aura around it. The scouts got close enough to glimpse it, but that's it. I'd normally get my lads to help out, but … this will be much more difficult than a scouting mission. I need someone with real experience, a cool head, someone who can help me get in, remove the barrier, and get out."

Bar looked at Harry in a pleading way.

"But-" Harry began. "Shouldn't we just let the people know? Won't they push for-"

"The people are too afraid of the Guard," Bar stated, grimacing. "I love my city, but they don't have the strength or backbone we have. You've faced down dark wizards, you've fought them. I know if you're with me, we can get in and out without hurting anyone. As much as I may dislike the Guard, we don't know who is just doing their job and who is corrupt, not well enough. If it was the head of the Guard… but there are many there, and we don't have time to research them all."

Harry nodded. That was a sensible approach, and very caring, in its way. Bar might be out to expose and bring down the terrors the Guard brought, but he didn't hate all of them. That was something he would remember. Perhaps the Death Eaters might even have some reluctant members, coerced or terrified into aiding them. The whole doesn't represent every member every time.

"So, you'll help me?" Bar asked, looking hopeful. "I know it is a lot to ask of you, but opening this barrier is good for all the people of Gibraltar."

"And me," Harry admitted. "The sooner I get back, the better. It has been far too long, already."

"Then, I'll walk you through what the scouts report," Bar said. "I'd like your ideas on the best way in…"

Harry walked down the long thoroughfare that he had found led from one end of the city to the other, one of several. He had taken to walking it while he thought, before and after his visits with Bar and his group. His thoughts flowed between concern for the people back in Britain, the worries of the people of Gibraltar, and the stress of needing to fix both together. Bar was nice enough, but he wasn't a replacement for Hermione, Fred or George. If they were with him, this would be so much easier, even just one of them. The comfort and intelligence Hermione brought, the laughter and creativity of the twins… he was doing without a lot in their absence. He hadn't realised how much he needed those things, how much he had unconsciously come to rely upon them.

A pair of Guards walked passed him on the other side of the street. They were chatting, laughing, and looking nothing the image of the dastardly, hateful Guard Harry had seen and heard otherwise. One of them had tears in his eyes, his face brimming with amusement. Harry tried not to watch. That was a quick way to get their attention. Still, he found his eyes flicking over to them more than they might otherwise. The sight of Guards acting so… human… bothered him. It was much easier to think of enemies as purely evil. Bar had made a very good point in that. Harry had been trying to digest that idea, munching on it at night, but it always tasted so sour in his mouth. How could you face against what an organisation represents when it is not a monolithic block? How do you fit that sort of complexity into your worldview?

A stone-faced wizard in their Ministry's robes followed the pair, his eyes glanced at everyone they passed with cold dislike. Harry could feel the eyes sweep over him, but kept his eyes studiously elsewhere. Eyes were a dangerous thing when it came to the people in power. A wrong glance at even a minor-looking official would get you an earful of shouting, at times. It was very disjointed, as far as he had ever seen it. So, he had adopted the same principle as the people here, avoid being caught looking. Harry was alarmed at how quickly he had picked it up. Still, it was better than drawing the wrong attention while he tried to get out of the city and back home.

His footsteps led him to the warehouse a block from the Ministry Tower, their agreed meeting point. The entrance was on a quiet side street, ignored by the Guard as it had no direct connection to their base of operations. If he were a street over, Harry would be walking past a row of Guardsmans' eyes. Here, though, there wasn't any foot traffic. The building he entered was long abandoned, from the look of it. Dust lifted in a swirl with every footfall, and the space had little but a few empty boxes strewn about.

"This is a good set of spells, Harry," Bar said, really close.

Harry turned, seeing nothing. For a second, he felt panic, then he realised it was just the protective spells. He took a deep breath.

"You've applied them well," Harry replied.

"No joke," Bar said. "You walked past me just now without a glance."

"Of course, talking makes it easier to find you," Harry said, chuckling.

"I can hardly do this mission without you, can I?" Bar asked, sounding amused. "Now, use your spells. We'll need to be moving shortly."

"On it," Harry said. He cast his spells quietly, knowing the rushing sound of the spells themselves would doubtless make more noise than his voice. Given the tension he felt building, though, he couldn't help but try to keep quieter.

"Here's that totem I got," Bar said, floating a pebble in the air.

The pebble appeared in the air, suddenly, leaving his area of protection when it left his hand. Harry snatched it from the air, and it disappeared again. He could, however, sense the other young man standing a step or two away. The sensation wasn't really the other person, just the pebble connection. He pocketed the pebble, but could still feel the closeness of the other one.

"Perfect," Bar said. "The old man does good work."

"Seems so," Harry said. "And he's sure no one else will be able to detect it?"

"We've been over this," Bar said, his voice patient, "every step is mapped. There's no way we can fail."

"Okay," Harry said. "I just don't like relying too much on unknown magic. All a bit uncertain."

"The Golpwin's Box is the most unknown magic you've ever seen," Bar said. "The whole operation is pinned on it working the way we want it to."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I have the ability to worry about more than one thing at a time, though."

"Well, before you worry too much, let's get going," Bar replied. "Wands away. Quietly follow."

"Yeah," Harry said, "and the less we talk, the safer we are."

Bar chuckled. "Yes, boss," he said, sounding amused. "We're off."

They walked quickly and quietly, Harry following after the young man's larger gait. It felt odd to follow someone you couldn't see but could feel. Their footsteps echoed loudly - to Harry's mind - as they left the building and made their way back to the main road. Here, though, the sounds of dozens of others overwhelmed the sound he had heard until he was sure it would not be noticeable. Even as they went around to the front of Ministry Tower, the crowd was still busy enough to create enough disturbance that he felt more at ease. At least getting in should be pretty quiet.

The pair walked in single file when they came to the entrance, slipping carefully between the Guards at the gate, but they needn't have worried. A big group of the people approached the Guard just after they went through, making noise and demanding to see the Minister. The front Guards and a few more approached, passing Harry and Bar without noticing them.

The door was ajar enough that they hadn't even needed their second distraction. Feeling an uneasy relief, Harry followed Bar into the vast lobby, looking around to get a feel of the place. The Gibraltar Ministry lobby made the one in London seem small, by comparison. The marble floor could have held the Great Hall at Hogwarts a dozen times over, and the ceiling stretched away into a near impossible distance. Knowing that the whole of it could be an invention of someone's magical fancy made it more plausible than incredibly magical building skills.

They did not have time to dawdle, though. Bar began to walk down the lefthand side, the way they had agreed, towards a secret lift that most of the officials never used. It was a risk, but also the fastest way to go through the twenty floors without being crammed tightly in a lift with other officials. Harry set off after him, keeping a wary eye on the other people and magical creatures in the lobby. They passed a pair of house elves that were walking quickly on the heels of their master, an older gentleman walking with a limp. One looked at Harry - he thought - directly and gave him a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.

Harry's eyes boggled at the thought. House elf magic was different from the magic of wizards and witches. Some spells that worked well on people did nothing at all to the elves. In all their calculations, it had not occurred to Harry that they might have to avoid House elves. For one, he had never seen one before that moment in Gibraltar. They were mostly kept in the high houses. If he had taken the offer of Albert he might have had seen one or more. But here they were… no turning back. Harry just wondered if Bar had noticed or if he would care if they had. Nothing to do but charge forward; he couldn't tell the young man now.

They reached the lift with no further concerns. A calm voice intoned, "Authorisation, please?"

Harry stepped in front of it, looking left and right before casting his first spell in the Ministry, " _Confundis!"_ He whispered the spell, but felt as though it had been a shout. The door, however, opened, and the pair stepped in, pressing the floor for twenty. With a whoosh, they were swept up quickly. The lift jolted to a stop, however, early. The door swung open and shut a few times, then stuck open. His Confundis spell may have done more than override the security.

As they were still alone, Harry whispered, "I think we should get off. If they come looking to figure out why it's broken, we can't be in here at the time."

"Good idea," Bar said. "We're on eighteen, so the stairs shouldn't be too bad from here. They're on the left about twenty metres."

"Got it," Harry breathed. Before they left, though, he had an idea. "Step out, I'm going to make it harder to find us."

He mashed the lift buttons and then said, " _Finite._ " Stepping out, he walked away from it quickly. The voice of the lift, said, "Authorisation? Confirmed. Confirmed. Confirmed. Authorisation?" As he moved as fast as he could without running, Harry heard the lift move, whether up or down, he could not be sure. It was moving, in any case.

He then followed Bar towards a stairwell that the young man had remembered. It was a grand staircase, wide enough for fifteen side by side without touching shoulders. A handful of officials were walking up, and the pair of them fell in behind them. Harry tried to time his steps to coincide with the people above as much as possible. The conversation from ahead, however, appeared to distract them more than enough.

"Did you hear they've struck at the station, again?" one whispered, worried.

"Some blasted kids, no doubt," the other replied. "Always trying to make a name for themselves in those _gangs_ these days."

"I hear its more organised than that," the first replied, sounding terrified. "Some spoke of separatists!"

"Oh, hogwash," the other replied. "I'll reckon that was a rumour started by ol' Silver an' Steel."

"Shh, do you want him to hear you?" the first replied.

"Are you scared more of the Head of the Guard than those 'separatists' you won't shut up about?" the other replied.

"N-no, of course n-n-not," the first said. "I just hear he doesn't like being called that."

"It's something to be proud of," the latter admonished. "You work in the Guard long enough to get a streak of silver an' I think you've earned a good nickname."

"Still, best to watch who you say that to," the first said, looking about in fear.

Harry and Bar separated from them as the pair set off onto the nineteenth floor. The pair were still arguing about the proper nomenclature of someone who had attacked a station. The city was certainly in some kind of mess if that was happening, but it could have been something invented by the Guard to keep people in fear. It definitely worked if you looked at that one official. He sounded terrified and he was in the middle of the safe Ministry Tower. Well, mostly safe. If Harry and Bar could get in here, others probably could, too.

The twentieth floor appeared shortly after, and Harry's thoughts left the pair of officials and their concerns. A long corridor surrounded the central space here as it had on all of the other floors. However, instead of doors, this space was filled with vaults great and small. Many were tiny, hardly lockers. Some had doors that took up a quarter of a section of hall. The manifold variations in sizes and shapes gave Harry a distinctive feeling that reminded him of the cobbled together feeling of Diagon Alley. Shops there seemed squeezed between others, and fit in at angles most unnatural. It gave him a whiff of the comfortable, the familiar.

Then, his feeling was gone. None of them were labeled. Bar had stopped in front of a set nearby, and Harry came up beside him. The elder stood still, quietly. Harry couldn't see how he stood, but the clear hesitation made him a bit concerned again.

"I thought they were labeled," Harry whispered, trying to will his voice to be as quiet as possible.

"They were," Bar said. "My scout saw them a week ago. Maybe its illuminated by a specific spell and that's what they saw when they checked."

"Did he at least say which side of the floor it was and the general size?" Harry asked. "That could narrow it down."

"It's one of the biggest," Bar said. "Near the lift we were taking. Let's take a look."

They walked down towards the lift, quiet. Harry watched the towering wall of vault doors pass, scanning the bigger ones for any sign that they might be important. Still, most of them were less than a normal door in size, that made the larger ones stand out. When they reached the lift, Harry could see there were two of equally large size on either side of the lift. Both were potentially the one they needed to find.

Harry walked in front of both, looking at their colour, shape, and everything about them. He considered and thought about it. Shaking his head as he ruled out potential differences that were identical. From everything he could see, the doors themselves had come from the same cuts of wood. That seemed like a magic mirroring, like a Gemineo effect, of some sort. Still, that didn't help in anyway to narrow it down.

"I don't get it," Bar whispered. "They only saw one. If they had seen a second one, they would have told me, go to the left one or something."

"It's supposed to be labeled with a giant 'Y', right?" Harry asked, running his wand over the surface.

"That's what they told me," Bar said, sounding frustrated.

Harry sighed, "We may have to try another day. If this is a barrier we cannot get through, it could cause more issues than it's worth."

"No," Bar said, voice firm. "We can do this. We may not get a better opportunity. Let's just… think a moment."

Harry thought. It was utterly ridiculous that they would have to choose one and hope for the best. It could take too much time and -

"We could open both of them," Harry said. "If they're the same, it will take the same amount of time either way. If you get one and I the other, then it'll be clear which is right when they're open."

"Hmmm," Bar said, his voice a bit uncertain. "I suppose it could work. We don't know what the other one is, but if they're really identical…"

""We have to start quickly, "Harry said, "We don't have a lot of time before someone comes up here and the lift already delayed us some."

"I'll take the right, I'll take the left?" Bar suggested, still sounding unsure.

"Okay," Harry replied, hurrying off to the other vault.

Harry began working on his. The vaults were sealed with a number of spells. Harry removed these quickly, but carefully. So far, the scouting had been accurate. The basic spells were the easy part. They had to be removed in the right order or an alarm might sound. In this case, the work was quick and he was able to reach the vault face itself. Setting his wand against the mechanism, he sent waves of magic into it, feeling a reflection of that magic back into his wand. The feeling would have been foreign, but they had practiced this, Harry found it very familiar.

He modulated the magic, feeling around inside, getting a sense of the shape of things and how the lock was formed. Harry had found he worked best with his eyes closed, losing that overwhelming view of the vault and focusing only on the magical feedback. When the shape made sense to him, Harry formed magical waves to match the shape he perceived. It took a few attempts, but eventually, something clicked. The first layer was opened. Harry proceeded to the next two mechanisms and followed the same instructions. If nothing else, these locks gave the owners plenty of time to catch someone open them. The amount of time it took was painful.

When the last of the layers had clicked, Harry opened his eyes. The door swung outward, silently. Glancing over, Harry could see the door to the other had done the same. Bar was surely exploring it to see which had been right. Stepping inside, Harry saw that the room was empty but for a scroll on a pedestal in the centre. Frowning, he stepped closer, looking around. Perhaps it had been the other one. This didn't look anything at all like what he had expected.

A label on the pedestal said, " _The Scroll of Tantalus: Beware what you seek!"_

Harry shook his head turning around. Definitely not the right one. As he turned, a spell struck him in the midsection, and he dropped like a stone.

" _Finite,_ " said Bar, stepping over him. "Thank you for that, Harry dear. I've been trying to get my hands on this for ages."

Harry gaped but was unable to move as the suddenly visible Bar stepped over, taking up the scroll in his hand, looking at it with awestruck eyes, before pocketing it. Harry could see a second scroll beside it in his robes.

"What?" Bar asked, laughing lightly. "You still thought there actually was a Golpwin's Box in the other vault? Ha! Such a simple child."

"But," Harry began, surprised he could speak. "What is this? What are you doing?"

"I?" Bar asked. "I'm taking the scrolls, of course. Sisyphus and Tantalus. Their creator wanted to warn people away from them. A bit quaint, really."

"Who are you?" Harry asked. "Is this to defeat the Guards? What about your group? Were they with you in this?"

Bar laughed. "Oh, those poor fools. They'd believe anything I told them. They even staged an attack on the central station to create a nice diversion for me. You would too, apparently. You tell the right lie for the right person, I suppose. No, my dear child. I'm no revolutionary or freedom fighter, or whatever you would have me be. I'm just an acquirer of fine things. And this will fetch quite a price with the right people."

"You're a thief!" Harry exclaimed.

"The finest you'll find," Bar said, bowing low.

"If you're so good, why did you need me?" Harry asked.

"Time was short to get into two of these," Bar said. "Even for me. A guard will be along soon, and I would have been halfway through the second one by the time he reached me."

"And your gang?" Harry asked.

"I tried grooming them for this," Bar said. "Spent weeks and weeks on it, but they're a bunch of fools. Feh! It would never have worked. The moment I heard about you, heard your name. Harry Potter. Perfect, given everything about your reputation, with the spells you had created to your creativity… I knew you could handle it. And look at this. You've really done well."

"You won't get away with this," Harry spat. "I'll help them find you. You'll…"

"Oh, you mean this thing?" Bar asked, pulling out the pair to the totem Harry carried. "Good luck with that." He tossed it onto the ground beside Harry. "By the time I release you from my spell… I expect I'll be out of Gibraltar."

"What?" Harry asked. "But you can't…"

"The barrier?" Bar asked, smiling sardonically. "Child's play. But since I'm speaking to one… Hmm.. Perhaps a parting gift for being such a helpful fool? Yes. I think so. Have you tried approaching the actual barrier? You'll see what I mean when you get there. Oh, and one more thing… watch out for people close to you. Someone isn't who he seems. For now, though… thanks for this."

He patted his robe pocket, pulled out a piece of leather, and disappeared in a blue flash. A portkey! Harry was sure of it. That would be one of the few ways to get out of here with little notice. They were regularly illegal, but a thief probably didn't care about that.

The spell holding Harry down immediately lifted, and Harry could move. He staggered to his feet, furious. The thief had gone, and taken his prizes with him. Harry had been fooled, completely hoodwinked by that jerk. The man, had gotten exactly what he wanted from Harry and tossed him some useless phrases as a lark. Harry would think about what he said later, and whether to believe a word of it. But for now, he had to get out. Bar had been right about one thing. A Guard would be along soon.

He darted out of the vault, running down to the stairwell as he heard sprinting steps behind him. Only when he reached the stairs did he slow, looking back over his shoulder repeatedly. He put a hand on the stair bannister before he realised the obvious. His spells! They had all been cancelled out or finished or something. Harry had nothing but his wand to protect him.

A number of officials passed him, giving him dirty looks, questioning looks, and general interest. They were in a hurry, by the looks of it, but not all might be. Harry had two options. He could try to slip off and reapply the spells. Would that set off some alarms? Those spells were rather powerful. Or he could try to flow out with the crowd, getting as little notice as possible. He had to hurry in either case. There wasn't much time.

He moved quickly into the crowd, walking with his head down, a disinterested look plastered on his face by force. His steps felt leaden as he went down and down. There was some noise above, a commotion. He had expected that coming soon, the guards would have found the two vaults with their seals removed, both emptied. Harry would not have been able to reseal them if he had wanted to, and then time was a factor. Even making them look shut would have been useless. Guards on that floor were trained to look for magical auras, and notice when they had been removed.

Harry felt like the steps were taking longer and longer to traverse. There was nothing but to take one step at a time downwards. An eternity later, Harry stepped into the lobby and walked slowly across it. Guards ran about left and right, some shouting and talking quickly. No one seemed to notice one young man that was walking towards the exit. He was mere steps from the entrance when a hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Young man, what are you doing here unescorted?" asked a harsh voice.

He turned to see an irate Guard, his face obscured partially by a wide and thick beard. Green, sharp eyes looked into his own.

"Ah, Harry!" came a cry from behind the Guard. "That's where you've gone to. I told you to stay outside the office."

Harry gaped as Albert Williams, the man who had offered him a home, strode up and leaned down to speak to him. "You could get in trouble wandering about this place. I expect he isn't just yet?" Albert looked at the Guard with an apologetic look.

"No- no, sir, Councillor," the Guard said. "I didn't know he was with you. I-"

"Ex-Councillor," Albert corrected. "I was just bringing Harry here to meet a colleague, you understand. Build good bridges for youth."

"Of course, C- Mr. Williams," the Guard said. "I will leave you be."

He dashed off, leaving Harry and Albert together. Albert strolled ahead, and Harry followed, slipping through the entrance without a glance from another Guard. Harry could not believe his fortune. What were the odds that this man would be there at just the right time to keep him from serious trouble?

"I'm not going to ask what brought you in today," Albert said, voice under his breath. "But I do insist you come to dinner tonight. We are having quite the soirée, and you will meet some delightful people, I am sure."

"Oh, but I-" Harry began.

"Tut, tut, Harry," Albert said, sweeping Harry into a carriage that had just appeared at the front of the Ministry Tower. "You must learn when a subtle touch is necessary. I guarantee you, this night will be of great value to you. Driver, go ahead."


	10. Chapter 10: No Hesitation

Harry stood, still stunned, as house elves fussed about him with swathes of fabric, quickly measuring and testing out bits and pieces before returning moments later with fully formed sleeves and robe parts. He had seen the quick work at Madam Malkin's, but that paled compared to the swift work of the house elves when their master had demanded something. Within twenty minutes, at most, Harry stood in front of a long mirror they had brought in, looking better dressed - by a stretch - than he had at the Yule Ball. The collar on this robe was very high, nearly brushing his jaw.

The house elves had disappeared so quickly, he hadn't had time to thank them. He knew they would probably have ignored such praise or given him odd looks. He had to remind himself that not all of the house elves had grown up around him. These had the same servile demeanour of the ones Harry had seen from well-to-do families in Britain. Somethings changed…

"Ah, Harry!" cried Albert Williams, his host-of-sorts. "Looking quite dapper there. Perfect!"

"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked, glancing at the other man in the mirror as he entered the room.

"This?" Albert asked. "Parties? Soirees for the best of Gibraltar and beyond? Because, one must have entertainment in this life, young man. That is simply the way of it."

"No," Harry said, "I don't mean that. I mean, this. Bringing me here for your party. Why are you doing that?"

Albert smiled, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'm doing a favour for an old friend, eh? Now, come on. Plenty of people to meet. Might be some surprises!"

Harry started to ask what surprises, but was quickly led out of the room and down the closest stair. Albert excitedly opened the door to a large parlour. The space was full of gentleman from young adults in most odd styled robes to elderly old men in old, formal robes. High collars were common in the crowd, and Harry understood why the one he had received had that adornment.

"Everyone! Welcome, welcome!" Albert said, his voice ringing in the room. "I apologise for my delay. I was seeing to our special guest. And here he is! As I told you, as _I_ told you, all the way from England, _the_ Harry Potter!"

A round of applause filled the space, and Harry felt lost in a strange crowd of adults. He didn't recognise anyone, and they all looked amused, as though observing some strange magical creature being paraded through their party. Maybe he was just imaging things. Perhaps Albert was correct and they would ultimately be helpful to him. He had little choice but to give it a chance, at least, for a while.

"Now, enjoy yourselves, everyone!" Albert declared, arms raised. "If you are in want of anything we will provide."

Then, he stepped aside and drink trays floated expertly through the room, never inconveniencing anyone, but exactly where they were needed when they were. Harry could see them sweeping through when someone wanted to set down a glass to take it away. Another would be there not a moment later with another full glass ready for the guest. Harry eyed the drinks going around warily, deciding no amount of encouragement would induce him to have any.

The party swirled around Harry, and it seemed that most of the crowd had considered him like a side show. They were all busily interested in their own conversations. In a way, Harry preferred that. Too much attention might not be the best. He didn't think he could really trust anyone here, Albert included.

"Well, well," said a voice from very close.

Harry felt the hairs raise on his neck. He knew that voice! How… how could it be here? Spinning around, Harry looked up at a smug smile beneath cold, observant eyes.

"You!" Harry said, his voice louder than he had expected.

"I could say the same," said Lucius. "One never knows what one will find at such parties. I must say Albert's standards have slipped, but…"

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded, stepping back and drawing his wand.

"Come, come," Lucius said, not moving. "There is no need for such unpleasantries. It would be most unseemly as a guest to cause a disturbance. Do you not agree?"

"What are you after?" Harry asked.

"All questions and no responses," Lucius said, sighing. "I really ought to have the _next_ Headmaster teach a course in manners."

Harry glared. The man was clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting out of Harry. The young man wanted nothing more than to let loose a few choice spells, but Malfoy had done nothing here but make a few comments and sip what looked like firewhiskey.

"There, isn't that better?" Lucius asked, chuckling. After a moment, he leaned closer and whispered, "Don't get me wrong, _Potter_. The moment this party is done, you'll be on your way back to England. I've promised Albert to see to it… personally. Old friends help one another out, do they not?"

"The city is sealed," Harry said. "You can't go anywhere. None of us can."

"Ha!" Lucius cried. "Is that what they've told you? We had all wondered what could keep you away for so long. Who knew it was something as simple as that? In any case, enjoy the party… while you can."

"You won't touch me," Harry said as the man turned, slipping back through the crowd.

Lucius said nothing else, and was soon gone. So, that was it. Albert had sold him out to Malfoy and the Death Eaters. How could he have been so blind?

"Ah, you've met with Lucius?" Albert said, appearing beside him suddenly. "Excellent, I had hoped to make an introduction later. Old family, that. Perhaps you've heard of them? Oh, either way. He came at my call."

"You sold me out," Harry said, looking up at the man.

"I beg pardon?" Albert asked.

"Lucius Malfoy," Harry said. "He's a Death Eater. He works for Voldemort."

"Oh, don't be so…" Albert said, sounding flustered. "Old family… couldn't possibly be… you really shouldn't make such allegations, young man." Shaking his head, he laughed. "Ah, youth. I can remember the things I would believe about adults in my youth. You'll learn, son."

"No, he's literally working for Voldemort," Harry said. "I've seen him."

"That is no longer amusing, Harry," Albert said, frowning and lowering his voice. "You'd best keep such inflammatory statements to yourself. Maybe in England they allow such disrespectful talk, but this is Gibraltar! We keep our elders in respect. Best remember that."

"I- but!" Harry tried to manage as the man patted him on the arm and disappeared into the crowd.

Harry was bewildered. Did Albert really not know? Wouldn't Dumbledore have said something if they were talking? Granted, how could Dumbledore know that Albert would call down someone from England to take Harry back, particularly that the person he chose would be someone like Malfoy? Harry tried to reason itself out to him. This could be a complete coincidence. A small voice in the back of his head kept repeating, 'It doesn't feel like a coincidence…'

A house elf tray near Harry slipped smoothly through the crowd, sliding even to Harry and then, out of nowhere, tipped, spilling a drink down the side of Harry's arm. He jumped, feeling the shock of cold from what had to be a specially designed cold drink. It felt as though he had leapt into the school lake during winter. Harry could barely feel anything on his left side. None of the other party guests around him seemed to notice, and the house elf did not stop, making a bee line for one of the doors.

Harry, irritated, followed. House elves were not sloppy or clumsy. If a house elf spilled something on him, it had been intentional, and he wanted to know what and why. With much less aplomb than the house elf ahead of him, Harry moved through the party, not gaining any new attention, somehow, despite jostling more than one in his path.

Opening the door at the end of the room, Harry could just hear the patter of house elf steps in the deep quiet of the hall. Following his ears, he rounded a corner, and pursued the sound as fast as he could. Despite their size, house elves moved quite swiftly. He hardly noticed anything in his chase, and soon had no sense of direction. Harry couldn't have found his way back on his own without much difficulty. It occurred to him that the home of Albert was a maze of corridors. What confounded Harry was that it made no sense for house elves to have to go through so many twists and turns to reach the room from the kitchen.

The sound ahead of him stopped, and Harry pulled out his wand, concerned. Had this been a trap? Was he being drawn away from the party?

Carefully, he edged around the corner, and - at last - he saw a lone figure facing him. His wand was at shoulder level in a second, spells reaching out to his tongue to be unleashed.

"Harry Potter!" cried an overjoyed, high-pitched voice. "It is again an honour."

The house elf bowed such that his nose scraped the ground. Harry lowered his wand, looking at the elf carefully.

"Dobby?" he asked. "Is that you?"

"It is, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby replied, rising from his bow. "Dobby is pleased to see Harry Potter."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Dobby is here for his master, Harry Potter," Dobby replied. "But Dobby will not let Harry Potter get in trouble. Dobby can lead Harry to safety."

"Is that why you spilled the drink on me?" Harry asked, looking around. He saw no one else.

"Yes, Harry Potter," Dobby said. "Dobby needed to get Harry Potter's attention, sir. And house elves are not allowed to speak to wizards here."

"Are you going to get in trouble?" Harry asked.

"Dobby will look after himself, Harry Potter," Dobby said. "We must go, before master looks for Harry Potter."

"I-" Harry began, but at a pleading look from Dobby, he stopped. "Okay, lead on."

"Come," Dobby said, opening a door to the right.

Harry kept his wand out, held down by his side as they went. He trusted Dobby enough, but that didn't mean it would be perfectly safe. The only point of comfort he had in this plan was that there was no chance Lucius would have thought to trick Harry with his house elf. Lucius barely saw the poor house elf, much less thought of him as someone that would be trusted by anyone. Still, Harry's hand gripped his wand a little more tightly as they descended into a long, dank tunnel. The path ahead was long and straight.

"Dobby heard about the path from the other house elves," Dobby said. "When he heard Harry Potter had come to the manor, he wanted to see Harry and warn him from coming to the party, but Dobby was not allowed in to see Harry Potter."

"That's okay," Harry said. "You found me when you could, and if I had never shown up at the party, people would have been looking for me."

Dobby nodded his little head. "Where will Harry Potter go?" he asked.

"I need to go back to England," Harry replied. "I have to help my friends."

"They has been looking for Harry Potter," he said. "The Ministry and Dobby's master. Dobby is afraid Harry Potter will not be safe for him."

"I know," Harry replied. "But I can't not go. They could be in trouble, and I cannot just run from Voldemort."

Dobby looked worried. "They will catch you, Harry Potter," he replied. He looked over at Harry. "Master says all ways into England are watched."

"Then, I'll just have to be cleverer," Harry said. "Can you tell me what has happened since I… since that night?"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby does not know much, Harry Potter, sir," he replied. "And master has forbidden Dobby from telling anyone most things, but Dobby will tell what he can, Harry Potter."

"Only what will not get you in trouble," Harry said, remembering Dobby trying to hurt himself over things he said.

Dobby thought for a moment, the only sound the pat of their feet on the hard, stone flooring. Harry noticed everything was well illuminated, but there were no torches, no apparent sources of light. Indeed, it seemed as though the air itself gave off a faint glow, creating an almost misty atmosphere but having the opposite effect. Instead of obscuring their view, this mist - if you could call it that - made everything clearer, brighter.

"Master," Dobby said, "has been promoted to Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement. The Minister has hired other new… heads of departments. Headmaster Dumbledore has left Hogwarts, and has not been seen. Professor Snape has been made the new Headmaster by the Ministry. Many people have not been seen, students and professors, Ministry workers. Dobby does not know where they have gone."

Harry gaped while listening, but thoughts occurred. When Dobby had come to a pause, he asked, "Is the Minister the same?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," Dobby said, nodding. "He makes many speeches, but Dobby does not hear them. Only we house elves move freely as before, doing our master's works. Witches and wizards rarely travel outside of their homes, work and Diagon Alley. That is all Dobby can tell, Harry Potter. Please do not be angry."

"Why would I be angry?" Harry asked. "That is a lot of useful news. Thank you, Dobby."

"You are welcome, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said, bowing low while he walked.

"I can't believe they made Snape the Headmaster," Harry said. "Well, I can, but it doesn't seem a job he would want."

"The Minister himself bestowed the title, Harry Potter," Dobby said. "So Dobby heard."

"Very curious," Harry said, frowning.

All of the appointments were clearly a power grab by Voldemort and his followers. He would wager anything that other department head appointees were more of that gang. Harry was just concerned about the previous heads, and most everyone else. Dobby hadn't said much to hint about the people he cared about, but it was unlikely Dobby would know much. They could be in that category of missing, like Dumbledore. But they could as likely be just waiting for word of Harry to come back, the twins waiting at the Burrow or Hermione with her parents. It would be summer holiday now.

"Up this way, Harry Potter," Dobby said, putting his hand on a side wall as the bricks disappeared.

A stairwell appeared behind the dissolving wall. Dobby ascended and Harry followed. As he stepped out of the corridor, Harry looked back down the way they had come. Nothing. All was quiet. They rose up and Harry found himself an the house elf on the outskirts of the city. The towering buildings ran off into a blur with the darkness of late night. No stars dotted the heavens, so only the distant city lights provided anything by the way of illumination. This did not, however, seem to deter Dobby.

The house elf led Harry directly ahead, up to a large barrier, a solid silver ring about three meters high that seemed to run around the edge of the city. Looking left and right, Harry could not see an end to it either direction.

"Do you… know how it works?" Harry asked.

"Dobby does not, Harry Potter," Dobby said. "The house elves do not have magic for this barrier. Wizards and witches with a wand can get through it, but we must be summoned by our masters from within."

"Did he cast a spell?" Harry asked.

"Dobby did not see master enter," Dobby said, shaking his head. "But Dobby is sure Harry Potter can work it out."

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said. "You'd probably better get back. Your master will notice I'm gone and might look for you."

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said. "And, please, just call me Harry."

"Y-you're welcome, Harry P-…. H-Harry," Dobby managed, dipping his head as he ran back towards the tunnel entrance.

Harry turned back to the silver barrier, stepping right up to it and touching the surface. It was solid, hard, by all appearances it was just a block of metal. He thought about it. There had to be some sort of magical trick to it. Both Bar and Dobby believed he could figure it out. If they had faith in him, it must be possible.

He began testing spells from Alohomora to breaking spells. None of them seemed to do much. The silver structure remained firmly in place. Looking up Harry wondered if he just needed to go over it. The problem was that the top of the barrier looked like the horizon, like it was just a painting of the horizon. If Gibraltar was actually something like the Golpwin's box, then the horizon could be magically created. It didn't look like going over was a possibility.

"Open up!" Harry said after trying dozens of spells. "It cannot be this difficult."

"It's not," said a voice from behind him,"but there is a trick to it."

Harry turned. "You?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

Fred smiled, his wrinkled face smiling. "We wondered when you would try just going to the edge," he said.

"What?" Harry asked. "You knew there was a way out and didn't tell me? Who are you working for? Did Voldemort send you to hold me until Malfoy could take me back?"

"Oh, nothin' like that, lad," Fred said, shrugging. "We, Agnes and me, we saw a young lad in trouble. If you had seen how you looked when you stumbled onto our doorstep… would you have wanted to let the lad go running back into the same trouble that led to that? Now, I told Agnes we'd never stop you from going, but she was insistent we keep you safe as long as we could."

"But, I need to go and help my friends!" Harry exclaimed. "Was anything you said true? Or did you make up all the troubles with the Guard? Was all of it a lie?"

"No, lad," Fred said, putting out a hand as if to calm Harry. "That was all true. And they do lock down the barrier from time to time. The way out isn't so hard, though. The barrier isn't exactly special."

"Wait, was Bar sent by you, too?" Harry asked, his mind whirring. "Was he supposed to distract me?"

"Who?" Fred asked. "We saw you'd found some friends and were off and busy. Agnes and I thought it a good thing. If you settled for a bit, perhaps the world you came from would be a bit better by the time you went back. Such things aren't for children. No children should have to fight Dark Wizards. Honestly, lad, we meant no harm by it. We just wanted to look after you a bit. Is that… bad?"

Harry sighed. He was torn between his frustration and understanding. Looking at their position, it made sense… but he needed to get back. Couldn't they understand that? Couldn't they understand that, right or not, he had to fight, he had to help his friends?

"Lad, if it were me," Fred said, looking about as if someone was about to appear, "I'd be doing the same thing."

"Are- are you here to take me back?" Harry asked, sighing.

"No, lad," Fred said. "You weren't back, so I suspected you might be going for the wall. If you weren't through…"

"You're… you're here to help me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"If you want help, that is," Fred said. "If you'll take my help. Least I can do for not helping before… but…" He looked about. "Don't tell Agnes I helped, mind. She's hell bent on keeping you until you're of age."

"I won't breathe a word," Harry said, chuckling. "What's the trick?"

"Pretty simple one," Fred said, smirking. "One most wouldn't be willing to try. Sprint at the wall full speed. Any hesitation and you'll hit the barrier and fall back. It's designed to keep people who may not really want to leave from leaving."

"That's it?" Harry asked. "Just run at it?"

"And don't hesitate, boy," Fred said sternly. "Don't make me carry you back to Agnes with a broken nose."

"Got it," Harry said, nodding. "I'll go then."

"Good speed to you, son," Fred said. "And do be careful out there. Whatever you're going back to, if it becomes too much… you can always come back to us."

"Thanks," Harry said. After a pause, he said, "for looking after me. I … do appreciate it."

"You're welcome lad," Fred said. "Now, you'd better go before the Guard notices us."

"Alright," Harry said, turning back to the silver barrier. "Here goes."

It still appeared solid as anything. His body didn't want to make the run. Warnings were blaring in his brain, telling him this would hurt, and it should. Harry just told his mind it was like Platform nine and three quarters. You could run through that solid-looking wall, too. He had to go through this barrier, and no doubt many ahead. It was worth it, though, to get home, to help Hermione, everyone. Taking a breath, Harry ran, straight ahead, not looking back. No hesitation.


	11. Chapter 11: Night Visits

Ding ding!

George glanced around the edge of an aisle, looking towards the entrance. "Sorry, sir, we have just closed."

A tall man had entered, and looked around briefly, ignoring George's words. The door closed shut behind him. George frowned. Some people.

He walked over to the front of the shop, brushing his hands off on his shop apron. As he approached the man watched, hard eyes locking on his within a sharp-lined face. George was sure the man couldn't be more than thirty, but dressed in high-quality robes. They had seen many customers since opening, but George was certain he had never seen the man. A new customer, then?

"Sir," George said as he came in front of the man, "I'm sorry to say we are closed. If you want to buy, you'll have to come back tomorrow. We're open from eight to five thirty."

The man said nothing, but he didn't move, either. His eyes were digging into George's in a way that made George uncomfortable. After seeing angry patrons, irritated parents and children, and everything in between, George was accustomed to adjusting to the customers. In this case, though…

The man looked about, again, scanning everything in his sight and completely ignoring George again. George cleared his throat. He had the sudden feeling this man had come to cause trouble. He eased his wand out of his pocket, keeping it low so that it wasn't threatening, but ready to use as needed.

"Has he returned?" the man asked, his accent thick and difficult to understand.

"Fred?" George asked. "He's working in the back."

Fred had actually gone to negotiate supplies from a local business. They had been raising the rates for a lot of their potions components. George would have accompanied him, but the supplier could only speak during opening hours. One of them needed to remain at the shop, in any case. He made a mental note that they needed to hire some more staff, shaking off the thought, immediately.

"No," the tall man said. "The Potter boy. He is much sought after."

"That git?" George scoffed, dismissive. "He's run off somewhere, hasn't he? Got no interest in a shop like this."

"Enough," the man said, stepping up into George's face and glaring down at him. "I am avare of your connection vith this one, and lies vill not hide him. I vill burn every brick of this place to slag, if you lie to me again."

"And I tell you," George said, his voice tense, "he hasn't so much as messaged anyone here. You know more than I do, I expect."

"Likely," the man said, sniffing. His eyes digging into George's, looking for some sign of a lie, for some reason to misbelieve George. After a long moment, he rumbled, "If you hear a vord, you vill tell me. I vill vait outside for a minute at nine in the evening every day until you do. I vill know if you lie."

"Piss off," George said, not moving. "If you think you are the first He's sent to scare us, you're a fool. As is he if he thinks he'll learn anything from us. We have _not_ seen Potter."

"So you have said," the threatening man said, turning and stalking off. At the door he turned, repeating, "Nine."

Then, he was gone, the door clattering shut against the night and leaving a hard emptiness to the shop. Flicking his wand, the young man locked the door again, a flimsy protection, it seemed, against the threats without. George stepped carefully over to the seat by the till, sagging into it and rubbing his temples.

After some time, his twin arrived, opening the door with a spinning flourish. "I've got it all sorted, brother mine!"

George looked up, confused for a moment at the sudden brightness of Fred's voice, the energy in it. Fred swung over to sit on the edge of the front desk, laughing.

"Oh, and how has he done such a thing?" Fred asked, sounding mock-confused. "Why, brother dear, I made a deal to supply a few more of our key components from them with a forty percent discount on our full order. It'll save us a bundle, Georgie."

"Tha-that's great, Fred," George said, trying to focus on that good news.

"Did you want me to check with you first?" Fred asked, his face falling. "I was a bit under time pressure there. Brody was this close to pulling out of the deal entirely."

"No- no," George replied. "The deal sounds great… we just had another visitor."

"Ministry?" Fred asked, a knowing look coming over his face. "They threatening our license, again?"

"Not exactly," George said. "I'm not sure who this guy was with. Seems to think Harry would have contacted us."

"Everyone thinks that, mate," Fred said. "If Hermione hadn't disappeared, she'd get the same."

"I know, I know," George said. "Something is different about this guy. He's not some bureaucrat in a suit. He felt… dangerous."

"Death Eater then?" Fred asked. "We've seen our share of them, sometimes on behalf of the Ministry, these days."

"Yeah, maybe," George said. "He had more menace than anyone shy of You-Know-Who. That's all I'm saying. Said he would be outside every night at nine o'clock for a minute waiting for us to tell him we had heard from Harry."

"Persistent if he keeps to it," Fred said. "But could just be a nutter."

"Could," George replied, uncertain.

"Was ickle Georgie scared of the wittle man?" Fred asked, his sardonic grin returning.

"Not as scared as Freddie would be," George said. "I hear he still jumps when he sees lizards."

"Nah," Fred said, "this Freddie you speak of sounds fierce… probably stares down dragons."

"I'll call Hagrid," George said. "I'm sure he's got a couple around. We could test your theory."

"I think he's more into Acromantulas these days," Fred said, musing. "Should probably send Ron to meet them."

"He has _always_ been a fan of spiders," George said, a twinkle in his eye.

"We aim to please," Fred said, laughing.

The pair laughed, the way George knew they did most when things were hard and times uncertain. It felt good, but that hollow worry in the background was still there, as it often had been since they left school. It helped, regardless. Nothing would take away what was happening in the world, but that didn't mean they had to leave it at that.

"I will let the others know," George said, after a bit. "If there's someone new about, they could use the heads up."

"Good thought, Georgie," Fred said. "I'll just finish closing up."

"Thanks, Freddie," George replied, pulling out his wand. Thinking, he said, "Arthur Weasley, it's George. Had another surprise visitor today. Tall bloke, asked after specs. Said he's coming back to check on the same. We're fine. Just letting you know."

He put his wand away and began helping Fred with the closing. They worked in silence for a few minutes. George kept looking at the door, as though he expected the mystery man might come through and threaten both of them as he had George only a little time ago. No one came to or through the door, however. All was still.

They finished the closing, and took the stairs up the back end of the store, leading to their flat. George went into the living space as Fred waved his wand to dim the store lights to their lowest level. The magical candles they had purchased never needed replacement and were very helpful when coming and going.

"George, coming," said a voice in his head, his father's voice.

"Dad's coming," he said to Fred.

"Ah, guess we should get some tea going?" Fred said, chuckling. "It must be serious."

George flicked his wand at the kettle and it flew through the air, filling with water at the sink and setting back on its platter. With a second flick, the water began to boil. Fred summoned cups and tea bags, setting them on the simple, round table in time for the kettle to decant the boiled water. Just as they finished tea preparations there was a crack sound outside the outer door. Knock. Knock.

"Lads?" Arthur whispered through the door.

George opened the door, drawing in his father. Arthur was hooded and stooping, trying not to be seen by any potential prying eyes. Whatever their familial connections, none of them openly paraded visits with family, not these days. George thought Voldemort's followers might find a full Weasley family together too tempting an opportunity to pass on.

"Fred, George," Arthur said as the door shut. "I heard your message and - oh, tea, well done boys."

"We've just closed the shop," Fred said, pulling a chair for his dad.

"Molly says you two work too hard," Arthur said, giving them an amused smile. "We all do a bit, these days."

George had taken his seat and watched their father. He looked tired, and more worn than even a few days before. The stresses at the Ministry had risen and the worries they had about the family members was not helping. There had been a series of bad news in the last week coming from rumours and other sources that weighed on George as well.

"You're eating alright, though?" Arthur asked, looking around as though he could evaluate the dinner they had not yet made.

"Yeah, dad," George replied. "Three square meals."

"I assume your mother would think they were not square enough," Arthur said with a chuckle, "but you look well."

"Thanks, dad," Fred said. "How's everything at The Burrow?"

"Well," Arthur said, looking around cautiously, "that's part of why I'm here. Everything is fine," he added at their looks of surprise. "We've just had visitors like yourselves. The tall man sounds like a man who tried to be admitted today. Molly said he was imposing and insistent. House wards kept him out, of course, but he did not sound happy to be ignored."

"Sounds like this bloke," George commented. "He seemed dangerous. I'm not sure what he will do if he doesn't get what he wants."

"He's going after mum?" Fred asked, sounding angry.

"Not your mother particularly," Arthur said. "I think he's been snooping around many places with people connected to … that boy. Thank goodness the Grangers took a long secret holiday."

"I just hope it was far enough away," George muttered.

"Do we know where they-?" Fred started.

"We know they left England," Arthur said, shaking his head. "And that's all we need know. These are not times when you should know too much."

"But we don't know anything," Fred said, frustrated.

"Neither do we," Arthur stated. "Everyone has been cut off, these days, as You-Know-Who would want."

George sighed. "Do you want something to eat, dad?" he asked, taking a long sip from his cup.

"Maybe," Arthur said. "I don't much feel like traveling just this moment."

Fred and George, as on cue, waved their wands to the kitchen, setting off a thundering of cupboards, pots, pans, and all sorts of clamour as the food began to prepare itself. It was at least seven times louder than it needed to be, or none, depending on your point of view. For George, it was perfect.

"Okay, boys," Arthur whispered under the noise, "News. Harry was spotted in Gibraltar, but has left. I think the other side had word of it slightly before us. We've got connections in Spain keeping an eye out for him, but it is a big country. We expect he will work his way north, back to here. Madam Maxime in France is already readying to stop him before he walks into the border trap, if they don't find him in Spain first. Your mother is fine, we've put extra protections on the house, a few of mine and Dumbledore has suggested one or two. That should keep the man away. I know you can't ward the shop, but raise your wards here. If anyone harrases you at home, let us know. The Order is looking into his identity. The strategy team is working away."

"Any… news on Hermione?" Fred uttered under his breath.

"Nothing new from last time," Arthur replied. "And yes, her parents are protected, still."

"Thanks, dad," George muttered. "We should probably stop the noise."

He waved his wand and the noise came down, replaced by the sizzling of vegetables in a sauce pan. The food continued to prepare itself, but more quietly.

"And I said," Arthur broke in with some volume as the sound died down, "Perkins, you hardly ever use that tent. Why would you care if a niffler had taken up residence."

"Really, a niffler?" George asked, laughing.

"Yeah, I mean better in there than the house," Arthur said. "But Perkins' wife hates it. She's got a bit of jewelry and guards it like a dragon whenever the niffler makes a noise in their garage."

"They should keep it as a pet," Fred said.

"I'm not sure, his wife would-" Arthur began, sounding confused.

"Nah," Fred replied. "Think about it. Your personal treasure hunter!"

"You could be rich!" George added, giving Fred a cheeky look.

"You could get all the jewels you want," Fred said, smiling.

"I'll… pass that on," Arthur said, chuckling to himself.

They had a short but funny dinner. George enjoyed these moments, the strains of the world a bit forgotten. Arthur looked a bit happier, too. George particularly liked to ease his father's worries, even just a little bit. When Arthur was ready to go, he rose, thanking them.

"You two take care of yourselves," Arthur said. "Oh, and Molly asked if you can come for dinner Sunday?"

"Count on it," Fred replied.

George nodded. "We'll be there!"

"Good boys," Arthur said, giving them a hug. "See you then."

He departed, and the twins quietly cleaned up the kitchen. George was deep in thought and Fred seemed more pensive than usual. The news they had heard was positive. Harry was found. He may have slipped away, but he was coming towards them. The complete disappearance of Harry had caught everyone by surprise and left all of them wondering what was going on. They had never thought Harry would run off, but as time went by, it had been harder to think about.

Now, though, it seemed Harry was working his way back. It felt lighter, in some ways, to hear that. Sure, Harry was in danger coming back, George knew that, but it still felt better hearing Harry was trying to come back. It was something George had struggled with in the time that had passed. Hope. Harry's return brought a touch of hope. They all needed a bit of that, these days. George took a deep breath, thinking of his friend. 'Good speed, Harry, and be safe,' he thought.


	12. Chapter 12: Unlikely Meeting

Harry slipped through the last of the crowds, barely registering any people. Any of them could be wizards, and any of them could be agents of Voldemort, possibly. He needed somewhere quiet and isolated, and he couldn't afford to let anyone notice or interfere. It had taken him much longer than he had wanted to get this far.

Limits of Apparition aside, you could only Apparate to a place you had seen or been to. Harry had never been to the continent. His heart felt a pang at the thought that if all of this had happened but a little later, he might have gone on a holiday with Hermione and her parents. If he had been allowed, that is. Still, it would have made things much easier.

And, sure, he could have found local witches and wizards to transport him, but you never knew who might have some connection back to the Death Eaters. Surely Lucius would have put them on alert after he disappeared. Someone, if not many, might be out looking for him, and if Lucius had connections as far away as Gibraltar, who knew what connections he might have in Spain and France. The sharp memory of the fake Professor Dubois as a servant of Riddle through the Silver Scions was more than enough to encourage his care. Anyone could be after him here. If Gibraltar wasn't safe, nowhere was.

So, he had snuck around, penniless, finding information to give him a new destination from town to town. Once in a while, he would come up lucky, finding out a new city was only a hundred kilometres away and finding a landmark on one of those Muggle post cards which they apparently sent physically in the post. Fortunately, he had seen Muggle London sites before, visiting landmarks, and they all had a wall of pictures of the site and others in the vicinity. None of the pictures moved, but they gave him enough of a sense to make the jump. He was always careful about the hour, though. A later arrival limited the number of people that might see him arrive. His first blind hop had nearly put him in the middle of a busy town square. Some sort of Wizarding barrier had jolted his landing, sending him into a nearby alley, painfully.

Harry had learned to take more care since then. He looked in the post cards for quieter spots in the image (out of the main view) and Apparated at night when no one would be around to notice. This did mean, however, that Harry had no time to work out sleeping arrangements. He tried to line up a couple Apparition hops a night, if he could find more than one location on the map he had fortunately been handed by a kind Muggle in one of the first towns he had entered. It showed the train routes through Europe, enumerating towns that were stops and those that were not.

Fewer people were so kind now. He'd not had a bed to sleep in or a change in clothes since the night he fled Gibraltar, and he looked and smelled it. Post card shopkeepers chased him away unless he was careful. Food had been more difficult, still. He hadn't been proud of having to summon an apple from a trolley here and there, but he had no other choice. The Muggles wouldn't notice magic, but Harry would replicate the apple and send the original back to its owner. Fortunately, Gamp's Law allowed increasing the amount of food if you have it, and Harry used that to his advantage.

To avoid notice, he did this maybe once per town and only if the area was overly busy. The result was a feeling of hunger constantly, but Harry shoved the feeling down. It was better than stealing outright, though he had not actually earned the food. His guilt was overshadowed by the fear and hunger, however. He could solve the hunger and the tiredness, too, if he found some wizards or possibly even through Muggles, but Harry could not trust anyone. He just wished he had taken the time to learn spells to clean more than just the dirt and grime off of him. There was so much magic he didn't know.

Tonight, though, he was making one of the last major hops on his way back. Mental image in his head, Harry slipped into a deserted alley. Concentrating, Harry spun into the Apparition, his thoughts on a specific spot in a picture he had seen, a minor crevice, surely no one would think to stand there or look there…

The whirl of Apparation surrounded him, its fierce embrace a familiar companion - the only one he had had on this journey. The force had become normal, but never felt better. The only thing that kept him going through it was the promise of the end, as it was with this journey. Each hop, each step took him closer to his goal. As he focused, a part of his mind thought about what it would be like when he reached England. What would he find? He brushed that off in his mind. No need to break his concentration over such uncertainties.

Crack. He landed, and was surprised at how loud the sounding of his Apparation had been. Normally, it was shrouded by the sounds around him, the walking, the laughter, the general busy that encompassed even the smaller towns at night. Even in their homes, people made a general hum, the hum of their every day. Here, though, all that reached his ears after the initial noise was pure silence, a rarity anywhere Harry had ever been. There was no wind, no steps, no sounds of Muggle automobile engines or … anything. The quiet was so soft he could hear his own heart after a moment.

But still, he paused. To make any noise himself was to risk being the only sound that was heard. He kept still, but turned his head about, carefully. Harry had landed in the niche he had aimed for. He could see the large arches down the outdoor hallway ahead of him. To his left was a large open space broken by a number of smaller and large glass pyramids. The post card had said this was a museum, but Harry thought it looked more like a large palace. Harry wished, too, from this travel, that he had learned more about Muggle famous sites. His education had been lacking in many things.

The lack of sound after his initial crack lingered. Perhaps the museum was closed. That would at least ease him of his worries. No one would be visiting if it was closed. Harry should be able to move on without too much trouble. Harry sunk low, looking around the edges of a nearby column. All still. Breathing, Harry crept forward towards the next column. The hall he slipped down was fairly long, but much less exposed than the open space to the left.

Harry's hand remained gripped stiffly on his wand, ready at his side. The quiet was unnerving. His footfalls sounded as loud as a hippogriff stampeding to his ears. Perhaps it was quieter, gentler, to the world without?

"Qui est là?" asked a voice from across the square.

Harry couldn't understand it, but it sounded like a question. Had he been seen? Harry froze, not taking a step. He was mostly behind a column, so he couldn't see who had called out. "Qui est là?" came the voice again. "Montre-toi!"

The last had sounded like a command. Harry looked around. If it was just a Muggle, he might be able to get out of this with a simple spell, but if this was a wizard any magic would confirm for the enemy that he was here. Could he get out of it some other way? He thought a second, and shouted.

"Is the museum this way? I'm a bit lost."

"English," the man muttered in a still carrying voice, then said louder, "We are closed! Stay there."

Harry looked down at himself as footsteps approached. He was pretty sure this was a Muggle from the answer he received, but his outfit looked odd for a Muggle. In the middle of the day he had seen very unsettled looks from people passing on the street. Here, at night… what might the man think? His robes were still quite fancy, if looking more worn. He had tried to cover up or remove the flashier bits, but that had left holes in the fabric. Harry had also never learned to mend.

Having nothing he could do, Harry stuffed his wand in his pocket, and pulled out his map, hoping to just look as lost as possible. He did not have to wait long. A flutter of light ran across the ground by the column before a man in a uniform appeared. Harry couldn't see him very well, but he was well built, and had a constant scowl on his face.

The light emitted from this Muggle device in the man's hand, and it swept a bright beam in Harry's face, up and down him, settling back on Harry's face.

"Vhat are you doing here at theez hour?" the man said, his words spoken slowly, but with a deliberate force.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, keeping his voice quiet. "I - I heard there was a museum, but I got lost on the way, and only just arrived and… when does the museum open again?"

"Ve open at nine," the man said, peering at Harry's face. He flicked his light at Harry's clothes again. "Vhat's your problem? You look very strange."

Harry thought quickly. He tried to come up with a clever reason he might be dressed strangely, but nothing was coming. "I - er…" he began.

"There you are," said a young French woman's voice, drawing the light out of his face to a figure quickly approaching. The light went past another pole to a place the man could see, but Harry could not. The woman must have stopped because she did not emerge around the pole and the man's light remained steady. "Eh?" she said. "Veux-tu me laisser passer?"

The man stiffened, suddenly, and Harry could have sworn he looked confused, but it was difficult to tell in the semi-darkness.

"Ah, oui, mademoiselle," the man said, lowering his light, and stumbling away.

Harry watched, confused, but less so when a woman in a robe with a wand in hand walked around the column. His hand immediately flew to his side to get his own wand, but his hand stopped before he could get there. Harry's eyes were locked on the woman approaching. Somehow, he couldn't move at all. A new beam of light came from the wand, fully covering him.

"Your guard vas down," the woman said, sounding amused. "Zat surprises me. Ah, but you do not look quite yourself."

"Who are you?" Harry managed, his eyes raking over the shadowed figure approaching.

"It 'az not been zo long, 'az it?" she said, sounding fake-hurt. "I suppose you 'ave been through much, Harry."

Then she stepped into a ray of light between the columns. The amused smirk on Fleur Delacour's face was replaced quickly with a crinkle of her nose. "Vhat is zat smell?"

"Fleur?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for 'Arry Potter," she said, "though I seem to 'ave found a dirty pig instead."

"You try finding a safe place to sleep and bathe when you're running for your life," Harry said, sounding as defensive as he felt.

"I vill pass," Fleur said, "but ve cannot bring you to 'er like zis. It is… unsavoury."

"I'm sorry about that," Harry said, trying to sound less defensive. "Wait, who am I to see?"

"I cannot say 'ere," she said. "But you vill see."

Harry watched her carefully. Was she trustworthy? He had never seen anything to say otherwise, but after the end of the third task, he wasn't sure whom he could trust.

"You are vondering if you can trust me," Fleur stated. "She said you might be like zat. It is only natural, I azzume."

He didn't have a reply he could think of to that. She had stated exactly what he was thinking.

"Know zis, zen," Fleur said. "Before zis night iz done, you vill know vat ve know. Ze Beauxbatons school left ze school ov Hogvarts after ze cup vas captured and you disappeared. Ve knew little else for veeks, but ve 'eard you might be 'ere, thanks to your 'eadmaster. Ve look for you for 'im."

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"'e and Madam Maxime 'ave long been friends, 'ave zey not?" she said. "If you trust 'im, please trust me, for ze moment. I vill release you. Please follow me."

The spell holding Harry disappeared and Fleur turned to walk into the open space. Harry followed, his hand gripping his wand in his pocket, but making no move to leave. If this did have a connection to Dumbledore, so much the better. He had never seen any reason to believe the Beauxbatons or Durmstrang houses had been a part of the Scions or Death Eaters, and Dumbledore had treated both as honoured guests. He had thought he might need help with his next big step, in any case, though he had not wanted to admit it to himself.

Fleur walked swiftly with no hesitation, tapping her wand on one of the small pyramids Harry had seen before. It unfolded like a flower, many petals peeling back in soft arcs close to the ground around it. She stepped over into a dark gap, and a pale golden light appeared around her. Harry followed and saw a twisting staircase downward bathed in that light. As he followed it down, Harry heard a soft sound of air above, and the petals had closed, reforming the pyramid above. The magic in this was beautiful, something he had not seen before.

"Come," came Fleur's voice from below.

Harry descended more quickly, feeling a strange sense of openness in this tight stairwell. He was surprised he had not banged his head or arms on the stonework, but whether by design or some other magic, he never seemed out of space. At the bottom, Fleur directed him down a series of hallways and pointed him to a room without entering it.

"Come out," she said, "when you 'ave finished, and somevon vill show you ze way. I must report back."

"Oh okay," he managed. "Th-thank you."

"You are velcome," Fleur said with her first smile since she had first seen his disheveled state. "I am glad ve 'ave found you."

Harry found himself in a small bedroom with an attached bath. Her words came back to him and he realised this was what she meant by "ve cannot bring you to 'er like zis". Harry took a well-needed and relaxing bath. He felt the ache and tiredness seep out of his bones and felt calm for the first time in days. His wand remained on the edge of the bath, just in case, but no one disturbed him. Quiet remained throughout, the same quiet he had felt above, but less tense for him now.

His thoughts drifted to the time to come, to the return he needed to make, to his friends waiting for him. In some ways, this had been a terrible journey, in some ways a good one. There had been good people along the way, those who would help. Fred and Agnes, that kind couple, Dobby, and a few others who had answered questions on the way here. Now, Fleur and others, possibly? He didn't sense ill-will in this. And this place had been ready, waiting. What was this facility?

Harry emerged from the bath tired, but more refreshed. He wanted to sleep, but, moreover, he wanted to know what was going on. After he had dried off, he looked for his clothes. He had left them on the bed, but they were gone. In there place was a carefully laid out robe of calming blue. It was the same colour he had seen in the robes of the Beauxbatons students, but this did not look the same as their uniform robes. It was not silky, but made of a less slick fabric. Harry put on the robes, not caring particularly if he received the tattered robes he had arrived back or not. They hadn't been his to begin with.

Beside the robes was a covered plate. Harry took off the lid and found a sandwich with cheese and ham. He ate it like he had never eaten anything. His hunger had lurched up and driven him to devour the food in moments. Harry felt thankful, in a way, that he could eat that first bit of food on his own. He had been so famished, it would have been embarrassing to have a witness. Shaking his head, he replaced the lid on the plate and stepped towards the door.

Pocketing his wand in the thin but uncrowded pocket on the right hand side of the robes, Harry opened the door to find a tall, thin man waiting for him. The individual had a thin mustache and Harry stared when he saw him.

"Harry?" the man asked. "I am Monsieur Jacques Dubois. I have-"

"You?" Harry asked, shocked, but stopped himself. "Y-you must be the real Dubois."

"Yes," Dubois said. "I am avare you haf met zis fake man."

"Then, he must have gotten some hair from you for Polyjuice?" Harry asked.

"Oui," the man said. "There vill be time for such talk later. Ze mistress vill see you now."

"S-sure," Harry said, nodding. He felt a wave of tiredness, but pushed it down. "I have many questions for her."

"As she vill 'ave for you, no doubt," Dubois replied. "Ve all 'ave questions zese days."

They proceeded down a series of halls that looked identical to Harry, ending in a large double-door that Dubois opened. He gestured for Harry to proceed. A grandly set hall met Harry, palatial in scale and finery. The floors had gilded spaces between fine marble tiles. The walls were works of art celebrating the four elements in story panels. The one across from him had the passage of a mermaid from glorious sunset through darkness and to a more incredible dawn as she reached the surface from a deep sea dive. But Harry's eyes fell shortly to a small number of people at the end of the hall, conversing around a table. The noise of it was something to his ears, more jovial and energised than anything he had seen since Hogwarts. It was jarring, but welcoming at the same time, like a night at the Burrow.

Laughter drew him forward until he was close enough to make out what was said. Most of it was in French, however, and Harry could not understand what was discussed. He recognised the head of the table, Madam Maxime, from the moment he entered. Her great form could not be confused with any other. She carried herself with - if possible - more importance than he had seen in her time at Hogwarts. Here, she was home, he thought.

Fleur and a couple others he thought were students - or, he supposed, now, former students - that had been with her at Hogwarts. A number of elder men and women sat around them, laughing, too, but quietly and in a way that felt very refined. Harry's approach, however, shattered the spell of that happy mood. Madam Maxime waved them all to silence when she saw him.

"Ah, it is 'arry Potter!" she exclaimed, her eyes running over him with a look of assessment. "I trust you are vell refreshed?"

"I am," he said, trying to keep back that rush of exhaustion. It was as though the question of it had reminded his body he should pass out soon. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"It iz nozzing," she commented. "'Ave a seat, please."

She waved him to an open seat between her and Fleur. Fleur gave him a solemn nod, he guessed of approval at how he had cleaned up, but said nothing as he took his seat. Madam Maxime clicked her fingers and a house elf brought Harry a glass of something bubbling.

"Vill everyvon raise a glass in toast to 'Arry's safe arrival?" she asked, raising hers.

Glasses filled the air, and Harry lifted his, tentative. Glasses tinked and people began to drink. Harry took a tiny sip, feeling bubbles sting the top of his throat and a soft heat follow the drink down his throat. It must be some form of French magical wine, like the fire whiskey he had seen in London. The heat was comforting, but Harry did not drink more. He wanted to be clear, careful with this conversation. Madam Maxime had never treated him as more than a nuisance to her champion's chances at the school. How much could have changed?

"Now, 'Arry," she said, setting down her empty glass after a long draw, "I vould like to 'ear what you 'ave been doing."

"Madam Maxime," Harry replied, speaking carefully and thinking as he spoke. "Thank you for your hospitality, again. I would be happy to tell you what I know, but… first, I would like to know why you have helped me and… what you are trying to do."

Dead silence fell, and the little titter of side conversation that had resumed after the toast was stilled. Everyone at the table was staring at Harry, including - he noted - the new Dubois he had just met. Madam Maxime considered Harry with a stony face. Her eyes dug into his own, and he felt like bracing himself against a powerful force, a wave from the ocean. From the silence and tension in the air, he was sure that everyone else expected the same.

Instead, Madam Maxime laughed. "Boy," she exclaimed, still laughing. "You 'ave fire in you yet. Zis is good. I 'ad worried from ze state zat Mizz Delacour 'ad found you. She zaid you vere like a drowned rat barely safed from ze flood. Good is good. You are afraid, and rightly zo, I fear. But you may fear none in my party, or who vork vith me. I 'ave seen to zem all and zey know I am not von to be reckoned vith.

"Dumblydoor 'as asked 'is friends across Europe to vatch for 'Arry Potter, and ve do. As for vat I vant? I vant peace in our north. Ze danger and terror ov zis Voldemort iz not good for uz any more zan it is good for you. I vant you safe as Dumblydoor vishes it zo."

Harry hesitated. He wanted to believe the woman, but that attitude at the school bothered him. What if she was just being polite now to get him to let down his guard?

"You zink becauze I vas harsh at ze school zat I vas maybe your enemy?" Maxime asked, as though reading his thoughts. "I vas zupporting my champion. I still zupport Fleur and my students past and present. I 'eld nothing against you, 'Arry."

Harry nodded. It made sense, and given the pressures of the Cup, he could understand why they might not be so ready to treat him in a friendly way.

"And my Fleur," she said, "zinks highly ov you. For zis, I vill trust you, too. Please. Let us 'ave no secrets vere we could help each other."

"And…" Harry said, eyeing a glance at Dubois. "May I ask how a fake Dubois was around and you did not know him?"

"Ah," Maxime said, "Zat is a little embarrazzing, I must admit. Ve…"

"Ve 'ave not spoken in many years," Dubois said. "It vas a… zilly zing, perhaps, but zo iz life."

"I don't understand," Harry said.

"He vos my student," Maxime said, "but ve had an argument von year, and Jacques changed schools. Ve nefer reconnected after that."

"Never?" Harry asked. "But I thought he was from Paris."

"I am," Dubois said. "I joined Le Jardin Magique in Paris after school, but avoided Madam Maxime and her school. Ve never ran in ze same circles by choice, but it vas a foolish zing I am zinking now."

"Yes," Maxime replied. "After ze fiasco vith ze fake, ve 'ave reconnected, and so it is."

"And the fake?" Harry asked.

"I zink 'e vas a man who came vith much interest to see my work, but left shortly after arriving," Dubois said. "I expect he found a 'air and replicated it many times for his uses."

Harry nodded. It made sense, though he still wished someone had caught on that the teacher he had had was not acting at all like the real Dubois. This man was much more quiet, refined in his attitudes and manner. Anyone who had met the him would not have believed the fake was the same man. It was frustrating that Barty Crouch Jr. had done so much damage with a stolen identity.

Harry decided that he could trust them. He spoke, telling his story from the end of the task until he arrived in Paris. There was little there he could think of that would be that helpful. In all honesty, other than his whereabouts, Harry knew little of what was going on in England. For good or bad, he shared what he could.

"You bring us much to consider, 'Arry," Maxime said. "Zis process to take ze old Voldemort and put 'im into you… zat is very serious."

"Yes," Harry said. "I still don't understand who these Scions are."

"Nor do I nor Dumblydoor," Maxime said. "But ve vill, in time."

Harry yawned, trying unsuccessfully to stifle it. Maxime considered him with concern.

"Monsieur Dubois," she asked, "might you see 'Arry Potter to 'is room? I fear he needs 'is rest."

"Of course, Madam," he replied, standing. "If you will, 'Arry?"

"I have more questions," Harry began, trying to forestall his departure.

"I know you must," Maxime said. "And I may not be able to answer them. But I vill see if I can find others who may. Tomorrow, ve vill speak again, tomorrow."

"Thank you, all," he said, looking around the table, accepting the dismissal. "For everything."

Harry could barely remember the trip back to the room. If anything had been said, it had not stuck in his brain. The steps felt vaguer as his head swam with exhaustion. The last thing he recalled was his head striking a rather soft pillow. Then, he was asleep.


	13. Chapter 13: Barriers

"So, you can't get anyone through it?" Harry asked, incredulous.

Fleur nodded. "It iz so," she replied.

"I never knew the Ministry had such advanced magic," Harry said, balling his fist on the table. "Unless Voldemort has helped."

"And the whole island is sealed?" Harry asked. "What about Muggles? Aren't they still able to come and go?"

"Yes," she replied. "We 'ave 'eard zey are not affected. Ze barrier detects wizards and witches."

"House elves?" Harry asked, thinking.

"Yes, zey can go through," Fleur said, "it 'elps with zending messages."

"Oh, but then-" Harry began, but Fleur was shaking her head.

"Ve 'ave tried," she said. "Even vith a 'ouse elf, a witch or wizard is blocked."

Harry nodded, thoughtful. "So, you have not been able to actually see how things are going in there. You can only hear through messages brought out."

Fleur nodded with a regretful look.

"I'm guessing the barrier is also the reason I have not heard from anyone directly," Harry said. "I've tried to message a number of my friends, but nothing comes back."

"It iz blocked, zis communication spell?" Fleur asked. "Ve 'ave tried many, ourselves. Ze 'ouse elf is ze best way."

"What about a boat?" Harry asked. "I could come from a direction they wouldn't expect…"

"No, it is no good," Fleur said, sadly. "Ze spell protects all sides of England."

"I'll have to see it," Harry said, decisive. "With enough work, I can decipher a weakness. I need to get in there."

"Madam Maxime thinks it is safer 'ere," Fleur said. "And she is right. Eef you approach, zey will find you."

"But I can't leave my friends in there," he said. "They need my help. If it's safer here, then it's more dangerous for them."

"Ve shall see," Fleur said, shrugging. "Your friends must be strong if ze 'ave been through so much already."

"They are," Harry said, nodding. "But that doesn't excuse me from doing nothing."

"Madame 'as given you access to 'er library," Fleur said. "Perhaps you shall find vot you need zer."

"It's a lovely library," Harry said, gesturing to the space around them.

Rows upon rows of books flowed to the edge of his sight and each was twice as long as the ones at Hogwarts. He had nearly fainted hearing there was a further floor above with more shelves. The sheer number of books was staggering. Harry could spend a lifetime studying and probably never finish all of them. He felt sad to think of it. There was so much there he could not get to, worst of all because he did not know French. Almost half of the books were in French. Another third were English, and the remainder were a mix of various European and other languages. It reminded Harry of how little he actually knew about magic, and how much more there was to learn.

"Yes," Fleur said. "Eet has been an 'onour to study 'ere." She looked down the rows with a fondness. "Zo, I vouldn't mind studying again overseas. Ze English 'ave very different styles of magic."

"Maybe after we fix things?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Fleur said, nodding. Rising, she said, "Eef you need anysing, let ze librarian know. I will be back in a few hours."

"Thanks," Harry said, settling back into the book he had found.

A stack of books on magical boundaries, blocks and power seals had been slowly diminishing on his table. Too many were merely demonstrative, telling you about them and what they achieved, the great victories and ceasefires in old Wizarding wars they had achieved. Harry had found the same issue with most of magic in his studies. Everyone wanted to tell you how great something was, but never looked into the weak points or discussed the benefits of one type over another. To the writer covering one boundary, all others might as well not have existed. And magic to counter their precious spell? They would never give away such a weakness.

Harry sighed, setting down the next drivel. Perhaps Fleur was right about the English. Maybe the French styled writings would be better for that. If types were similar, that is. But he wouldn't count on that to expose the issue here. Whatever the Ministry had put up, it had not been pierced yet, so the magic might be new or some mixture of effective boundaries. He just wondered how something so large was possible. The amount of magical energy to create a gigantic bubble over the whole island would take something massive or tens of thousands of wizards casting and recasting all along the border.

The latter was far too impracticable. To spread the work that thin was to invite intentional errors and mistakes. A wizard at a random place along the way might want a sneaky way in and out, exposing a weakness that could be exploited. Over tens of thousands of locations, there could be hundreds or thousands available. But then, if it was one centralised source, what could do that? It had the spread of the Floo Network, but more dense.

Harry thought about the magic at the Ministry's disposal. They had plenty, of course, and could effectively add extra protection to a house or the buildings. But barrier magic? Most of what they did was small scale. Had they made a deal with another government? Had they discovered something new? What additional strength did Voldemort have with that sort of protection in place?

"Of all the places to find James Potter's son," said a familiar voice, chuckling. "I guess you've made enough of a name for yourself to have your own way of doing things, eh, Harry?"

Harry turned, seeing Sirius Black leaning against a stack.

"Sirius!" Harry cried, leaping up. "It's been- what are you doing here?"

Sirius met Harry, giving him a big hug. "You've grown again since I saw you last. You need to stop that. You'll end up looking too much like your dad."

Harry pulled back. "D-did Dumbledore find a way out? Are you here to help bring me back?" he asked.

"Dumbledore sent me out of England on some reconnaissance before they closed the thing up," Sirius said, shaking his head. "I'm as stuck for a way back as you are."

"Have you been there?" Harry asked. "What's the barrier like in person?"

"I tried to get through once," Sirius said. "Before I knew there was a barrier. Was Apparating in, felt a shock and woke up splinched and in pain on the shore. The barrier was between me and the mainland."

"Then, maybe it's only bad from an Apparition perspective," Harry said. "If we come at it quietly."

Sirius laughed. "They have been trying a number of ways as far as I understand," he said. "I'm half surprised to find you here instead of at the border."

A thought occurred to Harry. "How come you didn't ask where I've been, Sirius?" he asked.

Sirius smirked. "You told Maxime, she told Dumbledore and Dumbledore let me know," he said, simply. "We had heard something of you around Gibraltar after your grand escape, but there was no sign of you. I think I was there a day after you left, but no one would or could tell me much. Dumbledore's contact rambled about how you'd gone missing and apologising to Dumbledore for him. Rumour was thick, so we asked some allies in Spain and France to keep an eye out before you reached England. The last thing we needed was you running into the border like I did and being captured by Voldemort and his ilk."

"Can you tell me what is going on back there?" Harry asked, eyes pleading. "If I can't go back yet, I want to know what my friends are facing."

Sirius shook his head. "I know very little, Harry," he said. "It's one of the reasons I want to get back, too. Dumbledore tells you what you need to know, and most of what he shares is around how I can help from outside. People I can speak to, alliances to mend, that sort of thing. It's not my usual … area, but Dumbledore doesn't have a lot of help outside, right now. He's fortunate Madam Maxime has been so helpful. Half the people he asked me to reach wouldn't have spoken to me without a recommendation from her."

"They don't still think you're…" Harry began.

"No, it's not that," Sirius cut in. "A lot of these continental Wizards and Witches put stock in old family systems. Like the purebloods, but different."

"They dislike Muggleborns?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly," Sirius said. "In business or school, it's much the same, but old families get special favours and so on, mostly because the families have helped each other from time to time. Old memories are long, and debts have mounted over the centuries."

"But they wouldn't even see you," Harry stated.

"I may exaggerate a little," Sirius admitted chuckling. "Many have a long list of invitations to shuffle through. If you have the stamp of a family you owe a debt to, that tends to move you to the top of a many month or year queue. In some ways, that is as much of a barrier to entry as Muggleborn hating."

"So, what are the allies doing?" Harry asked. "Are they helping with the barrier? Looking at how to intercede at the Ministry and remove the Death Eaters?"

Sirius shook his head. "Little, at this point," he said, bluntly. "Dumbledore wants friends outside in contingency, mostly. If everything works out, then he will have just wasted some favours. If he has to evacuate people from Britain or retreat somewhere, having a number of well established friends is useful."

"So, that's it?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore had you trying to make a bunch of friends out here?"

"Yeah," Sirius said. "Isn't that enough? For one person, that's quite a bit."

"Well, sure," Harry said. "I just thought you'd have taken a more exciting role, fighting or hunting."

Sirius laughed. "We don't all get to pick our role, Harry," he replied. "Dumbledore has plans, and we all want to help make them happen."

"Including breaking back into England?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"He never told me not to break back in," Sirius protested. "And it would be helpful to know how to do that."

"Are you trying to return what you found in Albania?" Harry asked, eyeing Sirius curiously.

"Why, no I never - wait," Sirius looked at Harry with suspicion. "How do you know I went to Albania?"

"Before the Third Task," Harry said, smiling, "I found that I could still access the Headmaster's office after everyone else could no longer see it. He had a few memories in the Pensieve. One had you talking to him about things you had found for him, in a shack and maybe somewhere else. He asked you to look for it in Albania."

"What is that old goat playing at?" Sirius asked himself. "This is no topic for children, Harry. I don't know why he would have left that out for you to see."

"Is it about a horcrux?" Harry asked. Sirius went white. "Another memory mentioned them, but not what they are. I really haven't had much time to look into them since. The school had nothing, but I wonder if Maxime's library might have more…"

"Harry, it's really dark stuff," Sirius said. "And our hope is that you don't have to concern yourself with them."

Harry just looked at Sirius with a questioning look. Sirius looked about quickly, looking unsettled.

"Look, fine," he replied. "If it keeps you from looking too much into them. A horcrux is an object you use to protect a piece of your soul. If you have a horcrux, killing you isn't permanent. Your horcrux can be used to bring you back."

Harry's mind whirred. He gasped. "Like the diary!" he exclaimed. "It was able to possess Ginny. I had never heard of a relic doing that."

"Yes," Sirius said. "That was Dumbledore's idea."

"So, we have to get that back and destroy it," Harry said. "Why were you looking in Albania, then? Wouldn't Voldemort have it?"

Sirius shook his head. "You're far too inquisitive, Harry," he said. "Dumbledore figured out that Voldemort made more than one. He's been having me try to find them."

"Then, why not take me with you?" Harry asked. "This is as much to do with me as you, and I won't be safe back home until they're gone, right?"

"Dumbledore has this handled, Harry," Sirius said. "It's too dark and dangerous."

"I have been captured by Voldemort's group and the Scions, been kidnapped by a house elf for my own safety, faced a dragon and escaped from one trouble after another, Sirius," Harry said. "I can help!"

"It's a bit of a moot point now, Harry," Sirius said. "With that barrier still up, we can't go anywhere. How far has Dumbledore gotten in breaking through?"

"They've been testing it from the other side since I told Dumbledore about it," Sirius said. "He's asked anyone outside stay away. It gets the Death Eaters' attention if you come at it, some how. From the inside, though, the attacks are either ignored or unnoticeable."

"Then, you want to go back, too?" Harry asked.

"Of course, Harry," Sirius said, his smile a bit more mischievous. "Dumbledore has sent word to keep you out here, though. It's dangerous in there for you."

"And you think I should stay out?" Harry asked, dejected.

"Me?" Sirius asked, laughing. "I'd be throwing myself at the barrier now if I thought it would do any good."

"But I should stay here and be good?" Harry asked.

"Is that what you want to do?" Sirius asked, arching a brow.

"No!" Harry said, his voice rising. "My friends need my help. If there's danger for me, there's danger for everyone. Voldemort needs to be stopped, and I want to help."

Sirius smiled. "There's my godson," he said, beaming proudly. "That's the son of James and Lily Potter. When I found you studying, I had wondered if everything out here had made you want to retreat. You are a Ravenclaw after all, and - no offence - they're not the most hasty house to move to action."

"Not everyone in a house is the same," Harry said, frowning.

"I know that," Sirius said. "But you can't tell me you're more likely to find a Gryffindor following Voldemort than a Slytherin."

"There are certainly more of them," Harry said. "But I think a lot of that comes from the divisions we make in the houses. If you push people apart and make it us versus them, of course people will take sides."

Sirius laughed. "There's the Lily in you, lad," he said. "I'm not going to argue. I'm just glad you aren't taking this barrier lying down. Do you have a plan?"

"Do you… want to help me?" Harry asked.

"Officially, no, of course not," Sirius said, looking about, quickly and lowering his voice. "But unofficially…?" A smile appeared on his mouth, very reminiscent of what he would expect of Fred and George.

Harry smiled back. Gesturing down at the books, he said, "I've been trying to work out what form of barrier they have used. It would be useful to get a close look at it, test some spells against it, or at least find out what spells do when they face the barrier. That will help us work out what weaknesses it might have. If I only have one shot at taking it down before the enemy finds me, I'd like to make it worth while."

"That is the Ravenclaw approach," Sirius said, nodding. "Do your Gryffindor parents' instincts still exist in there somewhere?"

"Well, any barrier or protective spell has an upper limit," Harry said. "They can only take so many blows before the structure folds. A more … exciting approach, if you will, would be to bombard a small area with a high concentration of force magic to break through."

"That is more like it!" Sirius said, excited. "I know a few people who can assist us. We'll just sneak you out and-"

"And I knew you vould attempt to corrupt ze boy vhen you 'ad asked to come 'ere," Madam Maxime said, sounding angry.

"Corrupt? Me?" Sirius asked, turning towards her. "Never! I only wanted to help the boy do what he wanted. He was already thinking about it…"

"Madam Maxime," Harry tried to explain.

She silenced him with a look, then looked back at Sirius with that same glare. "Now, you know as vell as I, Dumblydore 'as asked us to keep 'Arry safe. Of course, 'e would want to 'elp 'is friends. Who would not? And if 'is research 'elps overcome ze barrier, so much ze better. I suspect we will need zat before ze end. England is no place for children now."

"But my friends are in there," Harry argued. "If I'm a child, so are they."

"Zey are not in my domain to protect, 'Arry," Madam Maxime replied, tersely. "If Dumblydore sent zem to me, I would take zem in and protect zem. But I do 'ave you, and Dumblydore 'as asked to protect you. So, you will go nowhere until Dumblydore says differently. Am I clear?" She asked the last looking directly at Sirius.

When he had nodded, she smiled. "Good," she said. "Enjoy your reunion."

Then, she walked away, her dominating presence still larger than life departing. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He had expected worse when she appeared. Maxime did not have the liberal, forgiving nature of Dumbledore. Her word in her school was law. As this library and the whole facility Harry had stayed in served as an offbranch of the Beauxbatons school, Harry had little choice in such things. He didn't even know how to get out of the facility, if he wanted. Perhaps Sirius did. But, even Sirius would second guess his plans after that.

Sirius was watching Harry. He frowned, either at something she had said or something he had just thought. Shrugging, he sighed. "Just like the old days," he muttered. "James and I would always have a grand scheme or two planned. Authority figures always came to squash them."

"Then, you're giving up?" Harry asked.

Sirius gave Harry a mischievous smile. "Do you really want to?" he asked.


	14. Chapter 14: Sacrifices

Harry wasn't sure, but he felt like Madam Maxime kept a special eye on him for the next couple days. He would be studying and she would swing by the library for some research materials she didn't find. He would be taking a walk exploring the facility, and she would suddenly be on her daily constitutional walk. He would be eating, and she would be there. Basically, his only time alone was in his chamber, and it was so tight, he would spend as little time as he could in there. It had all the amenities he could want, but felt like a cupboard, in a way. For someone used to more space, it was a change.

Still, none of that mattered. It wasn't as though he and Sirius were walking around together discussing plans openly. That would be foolish. Harry had agreed with the man that he would signal when he had an idea. Until then, Harry was thinking. Sirius had found some eyewitness information about the barrier, and passed that to Harry through Maxime. The best thing to do was show they were working with her to find a weakness.

The spells that had rebounded were interesting. Any that were meant to dismiss the spell, end the spell or weaken it would rebound, sometimes in a violent fashion. Others, though, that were designed to blast aside solid objects, peel layers from anything or cut open an object would sail through the border, damaging the landscape or trees behind it. Harry found it interesting, as thought they had a spell that could pick and choose by type what it did. So much for his initial idea to blast the spell apart with a wave of attack. What you sent might come back at you or sail through, not even damaging the target.

As evening settled in, Harry reclined in his bed, thinking back over the day. His head was sleepy, but he couldn't help replaying more and more lately as he tried to rest. His head wouldn't let go of anything that might help them succeed.

"I've got a British wizard friend who's been living in Paris for the past fifteen years or so," Sirius said. "His name is Garland Hestus."

"Why'd he leave England?" Harry asked.

"It was around the time Voldemort began to cause trouble in England," Sirius replied. "He hasn't said exactly, but I suspect he lost some people close to him… Some people just don't like to delve into their troubled past. He's offered to help, though. So, when we go for the barrier, he'll be with us."

That day, Fleur had stopped by from her other studies to debate the problem with him. He found her grasp of the material useful. She hadn't been a Beauxbatons champion for nothing.

"Vell," she suggested, "perhaps ve vill 'ave to go around ze spell."

"Around it?" he said, shrugging. "That could work, but we don't know how high it goes or if we can dig under it. Sirius said he tried to Apparate through, but I never understood the exact mechanic of Apparition. How high in the air does it carry you or are you outside of our reality. I'll need to ask him where his target location was. If he was landing close to the edge, perhaps he was already coming out of Apparition."

"But no one 'as been able to Apparate," Fleur said. "Not close nor far inland."

"True," he said, frowning. "That may be from the Ministry's ability to monitor the Apparition within the territory. They might be able to stop it irrespective of the barrier."

Fleur nodded. "It is a puzzle," she said.

"I'm just wondering how they made it so universal," Harry said. "It's a massive area to cover with one spell. Is there an object or objects activating it?"

She just shook her head. Harry understood. He had scoured anything he could find in English and asked others to look for anything in the French section, but the old librarian had never heard of a magical object that could work on that level. It wasn't the sort of thing one would forget easily, he supposed. Magical legends, too, were sparse on objects. Most circled around wizards and witches of renown, not their tools.

His thoughts drifted in a fog, floating on the winds. A ward came up in front of him, and everything he threw at it, from a shoe to his wand bounced back. He couldn't seem to remember any spells, so only Muggle things were at hand. He lobbed everything he could, but they all bounded back, making him duck. The barrier, too, seemed to approach, growing larger and larger. It threatened to swallow him up. He ran…

"Harry!" came an urgent whisper.

Harry jerked awake, scrambling for his wand, but someone held his arms at his side. In the darkness, there was a couple scrambled seconds of panic as he tried to break free. Then, the other spoke, again.

"It's me, Sirius," the man said.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, groggy. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"We need to get you out of here, the man said," releasing Harry's arms and lighting his wand. " _Lumos._ "

Harry saw a worried look on the man's face. In the darkness, the face was ghostly, almost like the dead. The fear and worry in the man's eyes gave Harry a shock.

"What's happened?" Harry asked.

"The enemy has found out you were here," Sirius said, urgently. "They're likely to storm the place to get to you. We need to get you out of here before they try."

"But, they'll hurt people," Harry said. "I should stay to help protect them."

"You're the one who needs protecting," Sirius whispered. "We think there might be a spy in the compound. If you sneak out, it will be quickly evident they don't need to come here. That will protect people, too."

"Where will we go?" Harry asked. "Do you have another place in Paris?"

"I say we go for the barrier, Harry," Sirius said.

Harry started. "But-I haven't-"

"Yeah," Sirius said, "but you haven't even seen it yet. If you're as quick as I've heard, you'll work it out when you can actually interact with it. We should give it a go. If we keep hiding in Paris, they'll chase us like mice from place to place. If we disappear completely, they won't know what hit them when we start liberating England from within. Are you with me, Harry?"

Harry thought about his friends, about the adults who had helped him for years, all the people who had given something of themselves to protect him. They were all in danger because of Voldemort. Whatever anyone said, Harry and Voldemort were somehow entwined in all this. If anyone had a good chance of stopping the evil wizard, it must be Harry. Hiding away in a foreign land couldn't be the solution.

"Yes," Harry said, his voice sure. "I'm with you, Sirius."

"Good," Sirius said. "Then, follow me, and stay quiet. The compound is asleep. We'll need to get out quickly and quietly."

"Sure," Harry said as Sirius went out into the hallway, looking left and right and dimming his wand to a darker level.

In the dark, Harry pulled on his day-robes and gathered everything he had - a small amount at this point - pocketing his wand as his most prized possession. That had brought him all the way to Paris from his exile in Gibraltar. Now, it would help him take back his home. Ready, Harry left the room, finding the man crouched by the door.

Sirius muttered, " _Nox,"_ and waved for Harry to follow. They moved quickly through the facility, slipping down hallways Harry had never seen. So, this was not going out the exit at the museum. He had assumed there would be multiple ways in and out, but hadn't been out since Fleur brought him to the site. He did feel a little bad leaving without letting her and Madam Maxime know, but he would send them a message when they were back safely in England. He was sure Dumbledore would have a house elf that could be sent to make sure they knew he made it. Anything before that could lead the enemy to him. They had to be cautious.

Sirius led Harry up through the facility with a surety. Harry nodded to himself. Preparing for the departure, Sirius must have found a number of ways to leave, so that when Harry was prepared, they could just go. He hadn't even thought of that. It was good to have someone like Sirius helping you out. The man had been through a lot, too.

Sirius stopped in the middle of a hall, looking around before putting his hand on a random block of stone. It slid inwards with an uncomfortably loud noise. Then, with a light shuffle sound, the wall beside it slid open, showing a staircase upwards. Sirius gestured in and Harry climbed the stair. To his surprise, it opened into a street in Paris. The area was empty due to the hour, but it looked like a row of houses on a cobbled street. The trees littered both sides of the road, and were encircled by little metal fences designed specifically around them. The larger trees had larger fences, and the tiny trees had smaller.

Everything was lit by the shimmering light of the waxing moon. Harry could see impressions of it rebounding off rooftops and windows, but it was hidden from his direct site by the high peaked building next door to his exit. Harry stepped onto the cobbles and could feel a few wobble beneath his step. Finding a more steady footing, Harry looked around, uneasy. It was quiet here, almost too much so. But he could just be feeling a bit cautious. With the worry of an attack by the enemy, Harry was certainly on edge.

"Alright," Sirius said, emerging from the gap behind Harry. "I think no one noticed our flight. Good. No one can be questioned on how we got out. Let's go. I'll Apparate us to a point along the edge. I spotted it when I splinched myself. It's pretty isolated, so we should be well concealed while we work out how to enter."

"Okay," Harry said, pulling out his wand in a tight grip.

At a look from Sirius, he added, "Just in case the enemy is nearby when we appear. Can't be too careful."

"Good thinking," Sirius said with a knowing smile. He had his out. "Now, take my arm and hold on."

Harry took Sirius' arm and they Apparated. Being taken somewhere felt rougher to Harry than directing your own travel. His body was being tugged along by the force of the Apparition, and the compression felt harsher. Perhaps it had something to do with concentration. In Side-Along, you didn't have to do anything, so your mind wasn't occupied. Fortunately, though, the trip was quick. It was not a far journey from Paris to the shoreline of England, after all.

With a resounding Crack, the pair landed in the midst of a series of large rocks dotting a shoreline. Sirius released Harry's arm and looked around, scanning the area. Harry had done the same but came to find, happily, that they were alone.

"Good," Sirius said. "We're having a fine fortune. No one around for ages."

"Where's the barrier?" Harry asked. "I can't see it, but don't want to stumble into it."

"If I remember," Sirius said, frowning, "it is about even with that line of rock, there."

He pointed to a string of rocks that crossed the path further inland from them. Harry approached, keeping his wand outstretched towards it. He used a magic detection spell, and could feel something ahead, but it was vague, a bit odd feeling. Truly, he hadn't seen a magical barrier that felt quite like the one they faced.

Crack. Harry spun about, his wand ready to attack, but Sirius put a hand on the boy's arm.

"It's my friend, Garland," Sirius said. "Oi, Garland, over here."

"Ah, mate," Garland said, excited. "It's great to see you. And you've brought the boy who lived. Excellent. Pleasure to meet you lad."

A large man with a brown, thick, short beard came out around a nearby rock, taking Harry's hand. Harry tried to make out more about the man, but in the darkness it was difficult. The hand he shook, though, was thick and muscly. The man let go after a second and approached where Sirus had said the barrier was.

"I've been waiting to get a crack at this," Garland said, laughing. "Any ideas on how to get through, lad? I understand you're the brains of the operation. Sure isn't Sirius."

"Oi!" Sirius exclaimed. "Work with a man for months and this is what you get."

"I've got a few," Harry said, frowning. "My initial thought was to overwhelm it with magic, but a lot of spells that would serve go straight through it. Some rebound. I wonder if we hit one spot with a number of the spells that rebound at once if it will weaken. Secondly, is it possible to go under the barrier? Can we tunnel with magic to go around the surface level block? Lastly, is there an upper barrier ending? Could we simply fly over it?"

"Hmm," Garland considered. "Well, that's all theoretical. Let's see what we can do. What spell should we use?"

"First," Harry said, "let's start with Finite. A simple spell, sure, but what happens if you strike the same place repeatedly? It's one of the less dangerous spells to rebound, anyway. If we're struck, it shouldn't do anything."

The three of them pulled out wands, pointing them at the barrier, saying, " _Finite! Finite! Finite!…"_

Harry used a sensory spell after they had tried this a dozen or more times, the last of the spells rebounding.

"Nothing," Harry said. "It's like the spell isn't even reaching the spell itself. Like the air is charged to rebound the spell that might otherwise damage it."

"I think we're going to see the same thing with other spells," Garland said, scratching his head. "If, like you say, they use the space between the spell and the air as a barrier to keep the spell itself protected, then its unlikely to see an impact of any direct assault."

"So, should we try flying over?" Sirius asked. "I haven't brought a broom along…"

"I've got one, Sirius," Garland said, pulling out a bag from his robes. Opening it, he pulled out a full length broom that could not have fit within. "These extendable charms are brilliant."

"I'm the best on a broom," Sirius said, taking the broom. "I'll skirt the edge and check it for safe entry points above. At most, I'll go a kilometre or so inland."

"Thanks," Garland said. "We'll look at the digging option. Best of luck."

Sirius nodded, a smile on his face as he took off. Garland held his wrist watching Sirius fly off.

"Are you worried about him?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Not about him," Garland said, laughing, dropping his wrist. "That guy has broken two of my brooms to date."

Harry laughed. "Alright," he said when he got his breath. "Let's try tunnelling. I think a spell like Confringo would cause the damage we need."

"I'll try a few others further down the shore," Garland offered. "I'll just be around those rocks. If we're too close together, we might get in each other's way."

"Good plan," Harry said, stepping back from the barrier.

He looked at the space ahead. He'd need to make the hole big enough for them to at least crawl through, so he'd need to start further back to make the tunnel reasonably smooth. If he went straight down, it would be hard to get people in and out of it safely. At best he could find a hill that he could drill right through to reach the inside.

" _Confringo! Confringo! Confringo! Confringo!"_

Harry blasted into the largest hill of earth he could find, punching a hole in it with the blasts. In the smoke that billowed from the space, Harry could see some echoes of a hole. They weren't yet very deep, though. He waited for things to clear to get a sense of how well it was working. When the smoke had cleared, Harry could see a hole and the edges were pretty well seared. That was good news. If the sides sealed themselves then they might hold up better against the weight above it. The real trick was whether this would go through the barrier when he reached it.

Aiming his wand at the hole again, Harry felt a blast and a burst of pain in his side. He stumbled, falling into the water to one side.

"You idiot!" Garland cried. "You're supposed to capture him, not blast him apart."

"Don't tell me how to do the Dark Lord's work," came a brusk, angry voice.

"This is my operation, fool," Garland said. "And we won't have long before that idiot gets back. I'd rather take the boy with little issue than have to fight another bloody war veteran. The Dark Lord specifically asked to capture him unharmed."

"Then quit your yapping," the other Death Eater said, annoyed. "I think he went around that rock."

Harry rose, his wand in hand. Garland had betrayed Sirius and him. This was all a setup. That was why he was touching his wrist. Death Eaters had that… that tattoo they used, right?

Could Harry fight them off himself? He didn't know how many there were and what they might do to him. His best bet was to get away. If he was still there, they could use him against Sirius. Sirius could handle himself alright. He was a great wizard. Harry had to believe that.

So, forward or backwards? Harry sprang towards another set of rocks, putting more distance between him and the enemy. An errant spell struck a rock ten steps to the right. Whomever it was, he didn't have great aim. The initial hit must have been easy as Harry hadn't been looking. That didn't mean Garland was as bad, though. The man had been pretty quick with his wand when helping Harry.

Harry put a hand out in front of him. It was repelled. The barrier! Harry cursed his luck. He thought he had gotten to a better position, but he'd boxed himself in between a rock and the barrier. If he went out, he'd be an open target for the Death Eaters. He could Apparate back, but where would he go now? They knew about Maxime's place, didn't they? Unless that information came from Garland trying to fool Sirius. What Harry didn't know was a problem.

But the barrier itself did not help things. He had no idea how to go through. Blasting would take too long and would draw them to him. The direct assault did not work at all, and flying over… well, the broom was gone with Sirius. Unless Sirius miraculously came back undetected by the other two and swept him away, all Harry had was his wand and the small space afforded him.

A spell struck the rock beside him, bursting it apart in a violent explosion. Harry was caught off guard, dropping his wand and flying through the air. He braced for the rebound of the barrier, but it did not come. He felt his body slam arm first into the earth. In the smoke, he couldn't see his attackers, the remnants of the boulder or his wand.

Stunned, Harry began crawling back to where he thought he had been. Everything on his back and side ached, but Harry pushed on. He had to get his wand back. What had happened with the barrier was a mystery, but maybe there had been a space ahead of him outside the barrier that he had fallen into. His head was a bit blurry.

He felt his way ahead, still unable to see. There were shouts in the distance, but Harry couldn't tell if they were coming or going. Cracks of spells were distant, as well. All Harry knew was that his time was limited. His hands scrambled, combing every inch of the sand he crawled over. At the edge of the water, Harry found it amid the sticks the tide had carried into the rocky area. Pulling it out, Harry checked it. It was dirty, but he couldn't find any issues.

Turning around, Harry decided to crawl the way he had come. Lurching forward, Harry hit the barrier and was blasted back, smacking his back into the nearby rock. Crying out in pain, Harry placed his hand over his mouth, muffling the sound. They could still be near.

Putting out his hand, Harry could feel the barrier repelling him. He ran his hand along it for several metres in either direction and could not find the gap he had found. What did this mean? Did he have to be thrust through by an explosion? Did he have to… Harry's eyes bugged. Of course.

He looked down at his wand. That was incredibly inconvenient. The barrier didn't affect people, it affected wands. That was why Muggles and house elves could get through but not wizards and witches. That was why people couldn't Side-Along with a house elf and why Apparition was blocked. The wand was stopped and anyone touching it was kept out, too. This was important news, but Harry had to act quickly.

Apparate away or walk in without his wand? There were dangers inside, but the same could be said for outside. If he could at least hide his wand somewhere safe… maybe then he could take down the spell and retrieve it later. How he would do that… Harry wasn't sure.

He hated the idea, but what choice did he have? What choice _did_ he have? Harry shook himself. Of course. He didn't have to leave it on this random shoreline where Death Eaters prowled. He could bring it to a safe place and then they wouldn't know his entry point. Concentrating on a shoreline Harry could remember well, Harry Apparated away.

The blustery cliffside was barren, as it had been the last time Harry had been here. If he looked out, he could see the little island Dobby had taken him to to keep him away from the dangers of the second year at the school. He nearly laughed at the funny memory. The house elf had thought he could keep Harry out of it. Dumbledore thought the same, now. Nothing would keep Harry from doing what he could for his friends. Not even this.

With one last look at the island, Harry turned to the land ahead. Reaching out, he could feel the barrier there, just in front of him. Nodding he glanced left and right along the metre or so strip of land outside the barrier. Something here would have to do.

Down about thirty metres, there was a lone tree that had dug itself a spot along the edge, reaching high into the sky. The rock was cracked where the roots had cut through, but its grip was strong and firm. The tree looked as though it had weathered much, a good reminder of what still lay ahead, Harry thought. Nodding, he walked to its base. Moving a thin layer of dirt from about a step away, Harry laid his wand into it.

It hurt his heart to leave it, but to do any good, he had to make this sacrifice. This short term sacrifice. In doing this, he had the chance to go on, to keep fighting. He would find another wand somehow. He'd make it work. Maybe he could get one from Ollivander and come back for it when he had broken the barrier's source. That would be one of his first priorities. First of all, though, was finding his friends. They had to be safe. They just had to be.

Biting his lip in determination, Harry shovelled the dirt over his wand and stepped back from it. He took a deep breath. Feeling naked walking into a den of vipers, Harry turned around and walked inland. He had returned.


	15. Chapter 15 : Returned

Harry slipped through the street, keeping to the shadows - places he had never noticed in any previous visit. What had once been a bastion of light and excitement seemed darker, colder at night. But, perhaps that was only the result of the manner of his return.

The past few days had gone in a blur. By good fortune, Harry had entered a forest off the coast to find a very kind couple willing to drive him to London. They had insisted on caring for him and his injuries and drove him a day later. Despite the distance, the young man had driven Harry without question to central London, wishing him well. Stunned by his good fortune, Harry had made for the only place he could think to go… Diagon Alley.

If things were as bad as he thought, even going there could be dangerous. The enemy could be anywhere. But, Harry couldn't do anything without finding a wand. No wizard or witch was going to just give him theirs, and who kept around spare wands? Even the Weasleys wouldn't be able to help him much there. If he could get a wand, that, at least would give him a fighting chance if he was discovered.

He knew where he was heading, but took his time about it. If anyone saw him, there was a risk. He'd had to slip through the Leaky Cauldron - open but populated by a couple dozing drunks and an inattentive late night barman. Harry had had to crouch behind boxes for hours until someone exited Diagon Alley. After the person passed, he had made his way into the alley. How he had come this far without magical detection was beyond Harry. He had hoped, but it felt like luck was on his side. He needed just a little bit more…

At the door to Ollivanders, Harry tried the door knob. It didn't open. Groaning, Harry looked around. There was the store front window, with its single wand visible, but Harry suspected that wouldn't be a real wand, just a prop. Fred and George had once shown Harry how Muggles pick locks, but he had nothing on him to help. Where were the two mischief makers when you needed them?

While Harry tried to consider his next move, the door in front of him opened a crack. An eye was visible through the slit, and an alarmed gasp followed. The door opened more fully, and the old head of Ollivander himself was visible in the pale moonlight. He looked left and right, then dragged Harry inside, shutting the door suddenly.

"You young fools," Ollivander muttered, "come wandering into the den with no care in the world."

"I do have a care," Harry said, urgent. "I need-"

"Hush, hush," Ollivander said. "Come, in the back, come, come."

He ushered Harry to the back of the shop, away from the wands that he was interested in and to a small shop lunch table. He gestured for Harry to sit, shut the door, and lit his wand. In the dim wand light, Harry thought the man's face looked ghastly, all lines and creases that were deep etched in darkness. The man's words only added to this sense of worry.

"You should have stayed away," Ollivander said.

"Yes, but I need-" Harry began.

"You need to get away," the man said. "I understand. There were rumours you had gone to another land, but that was just a ruse to keep the enemy from looking closer… I understand."

"N-no," Harry said. "I - I came back. I was far away."

"Then, go back there," Ollivander insisted. "Go back and do everything you can to stay away. This is not a place for you."

"I know there's danger, Mr. Ollivander," Harry said. "But my friends are facing it, too. I can't stand by and watch from afar. Now-"

"Foolish children," Ollivander muttered. "You-Know-Who is not going to just stop because you're here. If anything, it will make him more rabid… he will stop at nothing to capture you."

"I know that, Mr. Ollivander," Harry broke in. "And it may be foolish, but I have decided to do it. Now, can I please get a new wand?"

"Wand?" Ollivander asked, looking confused. "What happened to the wand that chose you?"

"I had to leave it outside the barrier," Harry explained. "To come into England, I had to get past the barrier, and wands are blocked from travelling through. Once I have figured out how to break the barrier, I will go retrieve my wand."

"An anti-wand barrier?" Ollivander said, bewildered.

"Have you ever seen that before?" Harry asked.

Ollivander shook his head. "It shouldn't be possible," he replied.

"Well, I'm afraid it is," Harry said. "And I'll need a wand temporarily to do anything."

"Y-yes," Ollivander said, stepping towards the front. "They're eleven galleons now. Prices of materials have gone up."

"Can you credit my vault?" Harry asked. "I didn't exactly have any money on me when I had to leave the school."

"No, I'm afraid not," Ollivander said, sternly. "Do you know how many emergency wand orders I get during times like this?"

"But, Mr. Ollivander!" Harry exclaimed. "You even said how dangerous it is for me… I'll pay you back, honest!"

"If you want money, get it from your bank, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said. "I'm not a lender. If you want to borrow some, go see your friends at the end of the alley."

"My… friends?" Harry asked.

"The Weasley lads," Ollivander clarified. "Maple, dragonheart string and eleven and a quarter inches, both. Very curious, even for twins to have matching cores."

"Fred and George are here?" Harry asked. "Where?"

"At the end of the row," Ollivander said. "It used to be the old potions store before the newer one opened, and-"

"I'll be back soon," Harry said, rising. "I will bring back… eleven galleons, you said?"

"Come and go the back way," Ollivander said. "Their shop has a backing to the service row, too. At this hour, they'll be in their dwelling above, like all … decent people."

"Sorry for the intrusion so late," Harry apologised. "It has not been the easiest time."

"Go now," Ollivander said. "The sooner this is done, the sooner I can rest."

Harry went out the door Ollivander opened at the back and crept into the back-alley, what Ollivander had called the service alley. Unlike the main row, this section lacked the vibrant and enticing colours of the fronts. It was drab and meant for supplies and the movements of shop owners. Taking care to head away from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry tried counting his way down the way. He lost track of what was what very shortly. None of the shops looked anything like their frontage from here. Then, he saw it.

The back of the shop was a bright, vibrant violet and drawings of fireworks bedecked the space, seeming through some magic to move, erupting from single dots in the space to wide floral shapes. There was only one shop that would bother to make their back end as vibrant as the front… whatever shop the twins had opened.

As he approached, Harry noticed that they had a stairwell from the row up a flight to a single door on the upper level of the shop. This must be Fred and George's dwelling. He looked about, and then climbed the stair as quietly as he was able. Looking around again at the top, Harry could see only darkness in all the other shops. The moon illuminated patches of the row and bits of the shop sides, but nothing in that semi-darkness moved.

Excited, Harry knocked at the door. Silence. He waited a little longer and knocked again, a touch louder, but hopefully not loud enough anyone in other shops would hear it. He had to try three more times before he got a response.

"Who's there?" asked a grumpy voice that sounded vaguely familiar.

"It's me," he replied, "Harry."

"Good try," said the other voice, disgusted. "You've been trying that one and similar for weeks. Are you going to be Dumbledore next? Merlin? Merlin's beard enchanted to fly around on its own?"

Harry chuckled. That sounded exactly like George.

"George," Harry said. "It is me. I've just arrived back in London. Honestly, mate."

"Bull," George replied, sounding annoyed.

"Fine, I'll just have to convince you," Harry said, thinking. "Oh, you and Fred initiated me and Hermione into a secret organisation called B.E.S.T., the Benevolent Excellent Society of Twinliness. You initiated me on my birthday a couple years ago."

"Harry?" George asked, surprised. He opened the door, staring at Harry in disbelief.

"Hey," Harry said, hoping George would believe him.

"Are you… real?" George asked.

"Pretty sure," Harry said. "I know plenty of other things only we'd know, if that helps."

"No, I mean," George said. "Just come in here."

For the second time that night, Harry was dragged into a room from the night outside. This time, he was pulled into a big hug.

"Wha's goin' on?" Fred called out, sleepy from the nearby room.

"Fred!" George cried. "Harry's back!"

"What?" Fred cried, sprinting into the room. "No kidding!"

He pulled Harry out of George's hug and into his own. "You little devil!" he cried. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"Had a side trip to Gibraltar," Harry managed with a laugh. "Not intentionally."

"You'll have to tell us all about it," Fred said.

"But not here," George said. "This house is being watched. We'll have to get you somewhere safe."

"And we do know a place that will keep you safer than most," Fred reflected.

"First, I need to borrow a little money," Harry said.

"Ah, I see how it is," George exclaimed, overly dramatic. "The twins make good money and the freeloading world traveler comes back to borrow some."

"No, I-" Harry tried.

"Woe be upon us, this day," Fred cried. "Where once friendship blossomed, now money divides."

"I just need money for a new wand," Harry said. "Ollivander wouldn't give me one without payment and I sort of… don't have mine anymore."

"You lost your wand?" Fred asked.

"Duelling Voldemort while blowing up his secret lair?" George suggested. "Happens all the time."

"Nah, probably riding a dragon while duelling Voldemort on another dragon," Fred said. "That's more fun, anyway."

Harry cracked up, and found himself crying while he laughed.

"What's the matter, eh?" Fred asked.

"I think our humour is too powerful for the deprived," George suggested, sounding sage and playing with an imaginary beard on his face.

Harry only laughed harder. The pair joined in, and the sound of it was like a gift to Harry's ears. He hadn't felt that light since before he was taken away from the castle. The only thing that would make it better was.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked. "Was she okay after…?"

"She's fine," Fred said. "You'll see. She's just… well, better tell you later, okay?"

"Sure," Harry said. "Can we get the wand, now? Ollivander seemed most insistent on doing this quickly."

"Yeah, but you'd better tell us your whole story later," George replied. "You owe us that for keeping us waiting so long!"

"Here," Fred said, pulling out a bag of galleons. "Let's go, all three of us. You won't be very safe without a wand."

"No one was in the row while I was coming over," Harry said.

"Maybe not," George replied, "but best to be safe rather than sorry."

The twins dressed in travel robes, rather fancier than Harry was used to seeing them wear, then they descended cautiously to the row below. Harry followed the other two, looking around to help spot any danger. All was still as they went, though. The space was calm and nothing besides the three of them moved. They reached Ollivander's place quickly enough, and he opened the door when they knocked.

"Hello, neighbours," Ollivander said, frowning. "Keep quiet, alright? I cannot be found dealing with you three."

"Nice to see you, too," Fred replied. "Here's the money you wanted." He set out thirty galleons on the table. "A little extra for your trouble."

"Good, fine," Ollivander said, taking the money and jumping to go to the front. "Now, if I recall, Harry had a phoenix feather, holly wand at eleven inches. This should be similar, ten and three quarter and oat with phoenix feather - not the same, regrettably, but we must do with what we have."

Harry took the wand, and waved it. The wand did nothing.

"Gah," Ollivander said, "fine. Let's try a few more."

Harry tried two dozen wands until they found one that worked well enough. It didn't have the instant connection as his own wand, but the ten inch maple wand with dragon heart string was meant to be a temporary wand, anyway.

"Thank you, Ollivander," Harry said. "You have helped a lot."

"Just go, alright?" Ollivander said. "I'm going to have to clean all of this up."

"Bye," the twins said, sauntering out of the door.

Harry followed, saying, "Thanks, again."

"Scared people are so rude sometimes," Fred said.

"Come on, we need to get him to safety," George said.

"Yeah, yeah," Fred said. "Can't savour the success of the moment when we can worry about some other doom coming."

"In a hurry?" asked a cold, hard voice behind them.

Harry had his new wand in hand, but slipped as much into the darkness under the eaves of Ollivander's shop. The twins approached the man, grinning as they did, and being overly ingratiating.

"Ah, good sir," Fred said, "we thought it a lovely night for a walk!"

"Yes, indeed," George replied. "And rather than a hurry, we are taking our time, walking very casually."

"It would not do to lie to me," said the tall man, voice full of malice. "I have at least three witnesses to Harry Potter entering Diagon Alley this night. I enter to pursue and whom do I find skulking about in the back alley? You two, known associates of Harry Potter. I know your habits, I know your movements. You do not go for strolls at three in the morning. Now, tell me what I want to know. Where is Harry Potter?"

The twins looked at the man like he was a crazy person.

"Harry Potter, come here?" Fred asked, dismissive. "That's as likely as a manticore strolling down the street. He's the most wanted person in Britain. How stupid would he have to be…?"

The man drew a wand and pointed it threateningly at both of them. Harry, hidden in the shadow, raised his own wand, pointed carefully at the man, and whispered, "Confundis."

The man's wand dropped to his side and he looked around, clearly confused. Harry took that moment to grab the twins' arms and tug.

"We have to go," he said, tugging. "While he's confunded."

The three of them ran out of the alley and through back ways that the twins knew. Harry stayed right on their heels, but looked back periodically. If that man came running, they'd have to stand and fight. If they had to, Harry would wipe the man's memory. The less he remembered about tonight, the better. How had he missed three witnesses seeing him go by? How could he have been that careless? At least he knew the new wand worked. That was a lone consolation here.

After a dizzying sweep of running, Fred picked a door that seemed random, and opened it with his wand.

"In here," he said. Harry, Fred and George entered before they closed the door. Then, he said, "Weasley, Fred. Weasley, George, and guest."

"Guest information?" said a voice.

"Potter, Harry," George jumped in.

"Confirmed," the voice said. "Hold still."

The floor of the room shifted down and the ceiling with it. For a few moments they were moving and then the ceiling ended where the floor had been. Where they had only had one entrance before, now there was a wide open space to walk into on the back side of the wall. The three of them proceeded.

Before they got far, a group of six wizards approached, wands drawn. Harry went for his wand, but was stopped by Fred.

"Wait," the young man said, "they're just checking our identities. There are too many ways to fake identity."

"Please hold," said the leader of the guards. He raised his wand and waved it, casting wordless magic. After a few moments, he nodded. "Welcome, Fred and George. Welcome back, Harry. Might I shake your hand?"

"Uh, sure?" Harry replied, taking the man's hand. The man's eyes ran over Harry's scar the way so many did, but he had a smile on his face.

"It's an honour, truly," the man said. "Now, come, I know they'll want to see you."

"Who is they?" Harry asked.

"The leaders," the man replied, moving ahead quickly.

"I keep running into these secret lairs," Harry said, laughing.

"While dragon duelling, I presume?" George asked.

"Can we be at least invited next time?" Fred asked.

Harry chuckled.

"So, how did you lose your wand?" George asked.

Harry explained. "That barrier around England? It blocks wands. Without my wand, I could stroll right in. So, I hid my wand to get through. I want to take out the barrier from inside and then I'll go get my wand."

"A bold plan," growled a voice nearby. "I like your energy. We will need it."

Harry entered the room, and saw Alastor Moody, former Auror sitting at a table. The table had the space for a dozen or more people, but only one filled it at this time. Fred and George entered, taking seats around the table and taking coffees from house elves running through.

"Thanks," they said at the same time.

"Could you two stay outside a moment?" Alastor said. "There are some things we need to discuss privately, first."

"What?" Fred asked.

"Anything you say to Harry, you can say to us," George replied.

"We're members of the Order, you know!" Fred exclaimed.

"Fine," Moody grumbled. "But not a comment out of you until I allow it. Right?"

"Fine," the twins said as one. "Spoilsport!"

"Please sit," Moody said to Harry who was still sitting. "Before you think of running off on some new adventure, I think we'd all be very interested to hear what you've been up to, Harry."


	16. Chapter 16: Long Awaited

"What do you mean, Hermione has disappeared?" Harry exclaimed.

"She left a fortnight after you … were gone," Moody grumbled. "There were disagreements on the way forward, and she left."

"What kind of disagreements?" Harry asked, angry.

"This kind," Moody said, gesturing to Harry. "Sentimentality against pragmatic sense. We had a lot of work to be done to stabilise after Voldemort's coup, and chasing after you all namby-pamby without a clue where you'd gone was not the top priority."

"And you don't know where she's gone?" Harry asked, his hand gripping the table in front of him.

"You two sound nearly identical sometimes, Potter," the man growled. "No! And a good thing, too. If we knew, they would know. As far as I can tell she's got herself holed up carefully, looking for you, no doubt."

"So, then," Harry said, pulling out his wand, "we just let her know I'm back."

"Don't be a fool, Harry Potter," Moody shouter, his hand knocking the wand out of Harry's hand.

"Ow!" Harry cried. "What was that for?"

"The Ministry can trace messages now," Moody exclaimed, exasperated. "Why do you think no one has been trying to message you since you came back through the barrier?"

"They can trace it?" Harry asked.

"Source and destination," Moody said, nodding gruffly. "So you give away your mate's position as well as your own. Nearly caught a dozen of us before we worked out how they were doing it. Now, it is owls or in person. That's just the way it is."

"Then, how do you reach people if you need to send an urgent warning?" Harry asked.

"We can't," Moody replies, stone-faced. "Voldemort was always best at isolating you. Alone, you stand no chance. It's the reason we have formed and need to fight this together, Potter. We've had too much division, as it is."

"You mean with the Ministry and Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"And the Scions. And a few of the Order have gone their own way. It's dangerous."

"Can we get them all together to work out our differences?" Harry asked. "We are all fighting the same enemy."

"Dumbledore'a tried, Harry," Moody said. "And if he could not, there is little the rest of us could achieve. No one wants to take the risk of gathering in one place, a nice basket of eggs, and quite right, too. We'd be open to one attack wiping us out."

"What is Dumbledore doing, then?" Harry asked. "Have you made any progress?"

"It has been difficult," Moody replied. "We've had to tread carefully. A number of our group are wanted, and those who are not have to approach new recruits with caution. Speak to the wrong person and you find yourself on a one way trip to Azkaban, or worse."

"And?" Harry asked, frowning. "Can you not tell me because I'm not of age or something?"

"Dumbledore wants to keep you out of danger," Moody replied, "but the general situation I can tell you. We've recruited more members and are watching the activities of the enemy. It is hard to tell where the Ministry, the Death Eaters and the Scions all start and end. There appear to be overlaps between the three organisations."

"Has Voldemort been seen?" Harry asked.

"No," Moody replied. "Not since you and Miss Granger saw him the night of the final task, in any case. He works best from the shadows. Even at the height of his power before, he only made rare public appearances. Now, he's in open war with us and the Scions. You won't be seeing him walking through Diagon Alley just yet."

"And the Scions?" Harry asked.

"They have been active, as well," Moody said. "Something has changed in them, though. They were much more secretive before. Now, they seem more violent. More attacks on Muggles and wizard-kind have come from them than the Death Eaters. From what we understood, the failure to secure your help to rejuvenate another Riddle has derailed their plans."

"What's happening at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"School is starting again, soon," Moody replied. "The Ministry has said there will be changes, but they have been a bit vague on what. Obviously, there will be a new Headmaster given Dumbledore's absence, but what else they may change is anyone's guess."

"School is starting again already?" Harry asked, surprised.

"You have been missing for a couple months, Harry," Moody grumbled. "The Hogwarts Express runs next Monday."

"I suppose it would be a bit much to expect to ride it back," Harry said, chuckling.

"If you can defeat Voldemort and the Scions in the meantime," Moody said, giving a rare laugh. "Be my guest."

For the fifteenth time, Fred and George looked like they wanted to say something, but Moody shot them another look. It was weird seeing them comply with anyone. Though, Moody did give off an air that did not promise good results from arguing.

"I'll do my best," Harry said, smiling. "I'd like to start, other than finding Hermione, by taking down the barrier. Have you gotten any information about it?"

Moody shook his head. "It isn't our priority," he said. "It keeps the enemy focused here, largely, and Dumbledore would rather that than spreading Death Eaters across Europe."

"It isn't stopping them from doing anything," Harry said. "I saw Lucius Malfoy in Gibraltar, after all. It may keep their primary attention inwards, but they can still go about freely. We're the ones trapped by it, and any allies we have outside. I had to leave my wand behind to step through the thing. If that isn't a dangerous risk, I don't know what is. They've got you cornered, so we need to unblock it."

"You can speak to Dumbledore about the barrier, when he's back," Moody said. "We've all got enough on our hands keeping people alive and safe. Now, it is late, Harry, and I expect you have been moving since very early. You will have more questions, and there will be those waking in a few hours who can answer more of them. The laughing twins can show you to quarters here. Mind, don't stray. You're valuable to the enemy, and we can't afford to let you fall into any of their hands. Right?"

"Yes," Harry agreed, wishing the man were wrong.

"And you two, get right back where you belong," Moody said. "You've risked enough coming here this long."

The twins nodded, giving Moody a stink eye after he had risen and turned around. But they said nothing, beckoning Harry away. When they had gone more than a dozen paces from the table, Harry turned to the twins.

"Do you know where Hermione is?" he asked.

Fred put a finger to his lips, and led Harry further through the complex, taking turn after turn in the confusing labyrinth. Harry was about to ask how far it was to the ruddy quarters when they exited into the fresh, night air. Harry blinked. They were on a walking path along the Thames. How they could have traveled that far from Diagon Alley was beyond him. It must have something to do with the magic that created the space they were in. Like the Room of Requirement, it could exit at unexpected places.

"Where are we?" he asked. "I thought you were taking us to the living quarters?"

"Sure," Fred said. "But-"

"He never told us how to show you to the quarters," George finished, a wicked grin on his face.

Fred's face was equally mischievous. "And you're not straying from the way we choose to go, so we're all good."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked as the twins started walking.

"To see Hermione, of course," George said. "The way you two go on about it. Sheesh. You'd think it had been years, not a couple months."

"But I thought she had disappeared?" Harry asked.

"Well, yeah," Fred said. "Who do you think made that happen?"

"Like we'd let Hermy just wander off without help," George said.

"What could you possibly think of us with such allegations?" Fred cried, putting a hand dramatically over his face.

Harry gave them a smirk. It was comforting to see them at their same old antics when the world had been tossed upside down. And he was more than relieved to hear Hermione was safe. When he'd heard what Moody had said…

"We have to move a bit quickly here," Fred said. "We really can't stay outside for too long. You still have the Trace on you, so it could be possible for the Ministry to track you down when you're out of the base in England for too long. It's probably more luck than anything else that you have avoided them since you got back. Or, maybe they don't check every day, assuming the barrier will keep you out."

"So, is Hermione hiding alone somewhere?" Harry asked as they jogged. His limbs had begun to feel heavy, but he pushed through.

"No, no," Fred said. "She's got a few people working with her."

"What are they working on?" he asked.

"You'd have to ask her that, yourself," George said. "She won't share with the Order because they don't agree. And we're in the Order, technically."

"How come?" Harry asked. "If Hermione left, why wouldn't you?"

"We've got the shop," Fred answered, sounding regretful.

"And the Order can keep a better eye on things around us than Hermione can," George answered.

"You are abandoning Hermione for a shop?" Harry asked, feeling anger rising again.

"It's not just a shop," Fred said, smirking.

"But it is important," George replied. "We act as a waypoint for people looking for safety."

"People fleeing either the Scions or You-Know-Who will hide there temporarily," Fred said. "We have a basement with all kinds of wards to protect them."

"It's saving lives, Harry," George said. "I would love for us to be out there with Hermione, making a difference on the front line, but people are counting on us."

"And we have to keep a public appearance, too," Fred replied. "Otherwise, the whole family would have to go into hiding."

"Dad's had to to be extra careful at the Ministry," George said. "But he's one of the Order's best recruiters."

"He's pretty good at finding trustworthy people who are worried," Fred said.

"Birds of a feather, they say," George added, gesturing.

"What if Hermione's away or asleep?" Harry asked.

"She won't be," Fred said. "She hardly goes outside now. There've been too many close calls with underage wizards and the Trace. The Ministry is a lot harder on those than they used to be, probably because they expect some students would help hide you."

"They could be right about that," Harry said, chuckling.

"Besides, mate," George said. "She studies enough for the both of you during your time at Hogwarts now. Seems to want to solve everything at once, I suspect."

They slipped into an alley a block off from the river, following its winding path around old buildings that teetered precariously on either side. Harry was sure they were sturdy, but a part of him felt they were not. He was positive he had never been here. Was it a magical area or could Muggles pass through here, too? How would he even know? The twins took him to a secluded spot in the middle of the alley and Fred tapped four times on a brick with his wand, seemingly at random. The wall shifted, slightly, several bricks moving about. George tapped on another brick off to the left in the same way. They shifted again. Fred tapped on a third brick rapidly, and the wall opened enough to let a short person fit through.

Waving Harry in, the twins crouched to follow him into the small crevice. The wall gap shut silently behind him with a light clatter. Harry could see very little in the space they entered, but followed the forms of Fred and George ahead of him. It started actually dawning on Harry that he was going to see Hermione for the first time in ages. He felt that rush of butterflies in his stomach, and he was just glad it was dark. He was sure the twins would have poked fun at him turning red with embarrassment.

"Just up these stairs," Fred said. "Bit hard to see them in the dark, so watch it."

"Couldn't we just light-?" Harry began.

"She's set wards that will set off loud alarms for anyone doing magic on the way in," George commented. "Something about it demonstrating someone is in the know. Last thing we need is enough hubbub to draw the Death Eaters to this place."

Harry nodded, though was certain they couldn't see it. They climbed the stairs up several flights, none of which had a door or other visible exit. Harry found it curious. Was the building built into the edge of a Muggle one, only providing wizarding access to the top floor?

"How did you get this building?" Harry asked.

"We rent it," George said.

"Well, moreover, Wizarding Weezes, our shop does," Fred said.

"We store supplies, new shipments of goods, etc. here," George added, his voice full of pride.

"Isn't that a bit obvious?" Harry asked. "Hiding Hermione in one of your shop's warehouses?

"Except, this space doesn't exist," Fred said.

"Hermione helped add an extendable space charm on the back wall," Fred replied. "The warehouse looks like a black wall from the outside, and takes up the same amount of space from the inside."

"You could measure it centimetre by centimetre and agree with what the outside measurements are," George said. "Except, from this side, it is accessible magically."

They approached the only door at the top of the stair, a double door with a height and style to it completely unbecoming of the rest of the building. It looked, to Harry, like the door to a wealthy person's sitting room. In a way, it made him think of the soiree he had had to attend in Gibraltar. That seemed like a long time ago, now. He had certainly travelled a long way since then, at least.

George pushed open the door, and Harry spied a rather untidy study. There were half a dozen desks scattered around the room piled with books, crumpled and rolled parchment, tipped ink bottles, and general disarray. Along the back wall were windows he was certain had not been visible from the outside. The space, however, was lit primarily by a series of candles spread around on any blank surface available. As his eyes scanned all of this, at first he thought the room was empty. Then, he noticed one of the back desks, nearest the windows, had an occupant, one who now peered across the darkness in their direction. Hermione.

"Fred and George," she asked, sounding tired and put out, "did you bring another of Dumbledore's people to try to talk sense to me? I swear… if I have told you once…"

"We've done nothing of the kind!" Fred exclaimed.

"And you make such declarations without identifying our visitor!" George cried. "We should take him away, right now. And what good it would serve you!"

Harry nearly laughed, but he was too excited. He broke in before she could answer, saying, "Hermione, it's me… I'm back."

She ran forward, her face looking confused in the candlelight between hopeful and ready to yell at them if it was one of their tricks. Harry could see worry lines around her eyes, and a pink exhaustion in and around them. She had not been getting proper sleep, and Harry suspected a lot of that was about him. In an instant, he felt both a surge of affection for his girlfriend and guilt at being the cause of her pain. He stepped forward, and she nearly tripped when she saw his face, stopping just in front of him.

"Is- is it really you?" she asked, sounding fearful and unsure.

"Yes, it's me," he said.

She looked at the twins and they shrugged.

"This git knocked on our door at a late hour," Fred said.

"Bloody rude it was," George said, shaking his head. "But, yeah."

"It's definitely Harry," Fred and George said at once.

Hermione burst into tears and leapt into him, burying her face in his shoulder. He pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close while she cried. For a time, all he could see was her bushy hair, bobbing in rhythm, but that subsided after a time, and she just pulled him tighter still.

"I missed you," she murmured.

"Me, too," he said, beaming down at her. "I've been trying to get back since that night. Sorry it took me so long."

She looked up, saw his face, and smiled back, wiping the tears away. "I'm… sorry you have to see me like this," she said, trying to smooth out the hair from her forehead and continually wiping away her tears.

He shook his head. "I don't care," he said. "I'm just happy I found you and that you're okay."

"You'll have to tell me everything," she said. "No one has told me anything."

"On that," Fred said. "We are going to have to get him back at some point."

"Back?" she asked, looking around Harry at the twin.

"We … er … took him by the Order, first," George said, scratching his head. "And Moody said-"

"I don't care what Mad-Eye says," she exclaimed. "Harry should be here, with us. And for the fiftieth time, so should you two."

"We are helping," Fred said. "We brought Harry to see you, didn't we? If we weren't in the Order, we wouldn't have found him at all."

"The enemy might have beat us to him," George said.

Hermione had manoeuvred herself so that she was facing the pair, but still holding Harry's hand, turning Harry about to face them, as well. She looked defiant, upset.

"Why is there such a break between you and the Order?" Harry asked. "Isn't everyone on the same side?"

"Some people want to make you do exactly what they want you to, though," Hermione said, "and they aren't focusing on a lot of the important things."

"Moody told you before, mate," Fred said. "She split because they didn't want to find you."

Hermione went pink in the wavering candle light. "P-partly," she said. "But everything had to be done exactly as Dumbledore wanted it, no questions asked. Here, each of us is free to look into whatever we want. We just have to keep each other informed. I'll tell you more later, Harry. I can't let these two go back to Dumbledore and report on all my doings."

"But Harry has to go ba-" George began, cutting off at a look from Hermione.

"He's perfectly safe here," she said. "And we can expand out some more space for a new desk so he can help. Most of the group doesn't need to sleep here, so it's pretty easy space-wise."

"Wait," Harry said. "If you always live here now, what about your parents?"

"Dumbledore arranged to have them moved to safety when I first joined the Order," Hermione admitted. "It was the one kind thing he's done since you disappeared."

"What's happened to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, surprised. He had always seen the man as kind and thoughtful.

"The Headmaster," Fred said, "just has big plans. He needs people to trust him to get things done, that's all."

"You're starting to sound like your dad," Hermione said, sounding tired. "Look, we can talk about this more later. It is rather late, and you two have a shop to run in the morning."

"Moody would kill us if we didn't bring Harry back," George said.

"You should have thought about that before you took Harry to him first," Hermione snapped.

"Please, let's not fight," Harry said, stepping between his friends. "I'm sorry, okay. I think a lot of this is because I got pulled away. If I could have come back faster… but anyway, you three always have gotten on well, and we do have a common enemy, not each other, not Dumbledore. We don't need to agree on the best way to do it as long as we're all trying to stop V-"

"Don't say his name!" Fred cried.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's been tabooed," George added. "The Death Eaters can find you if you do."

"But I said it a number of times to Moody," Harry said.

"Dumbledore has put up his own personal wards in that meeting place," Hermione explained. "The rest of us have to settle for You-Know-Who."

"Well, fine," Harry said. "That's beside the point. You lot need to get on. If you don't necessarily work together, at least don't fight. That's what You-Know-Who would want. He likes people fighting themselves instead of him. That's why he's not marching down the street proclaiming his greatness. He wants people to focus on each other and build up anger and resentment. He can use that to make his ends happen."

Hermione looked a little embarrassed and the twins had an abashed look.

"Harry," Hermione said, "this is why everyone needs you. You always try to bring us together. Even in school, you were the first to reach out to the Slytherins…"

"Mate's right," the twins agreed. "It's been a bit frustrating and … Hermione, we shouldn't have been so confrontational."

"And I'm sorry for what I've said," she replied.

She released Harry's hand to pull the twins into a hug. Harry admired it for a second before Hermione grabbed him and pulled him into it.

"You are a part of this group, too, Harry," she said, squeezing his arm with special emphasis.

When they had released, Fred said, shrugging, "I guess we can say Harry rushed off to find you."

"Like anyone would blink twice if he did," George said. "You two would go to the ends of the earth for each other."

"Harry, next time, step it up," Fred said. "Only to Gibraltar and back? Pathetic."

"Really should get somewhere far," George said, "I hear Australia is nice."

"They have magical spiders the size of forests," Fred said.

"And magical kangaroos with pouches that bite unsuspecting Muggles," George added.

"Let's not even start with the koalas," Fred said, nodding to his brother with a serious expression.

"Well, it's settled," Hermione said, beaming. "Harry's staying here. If Dumbledore makes a fuss, we'll have a chat with him."

Harry's ear buzzed suddenly. "Harry! RUN!" He could tell it was Moody. "They have invaded Headquarters and no one can find you. Get out of here!"

Flinching at the loudness, he found his friends looking at him strangely.

"Are you seeing You-Know-Who's thoughts again?" Hermione asked, sounding terrified.

"N-no," he said. "Moody messaged. The Order is under attack."

"They can trace the messages," Hermione said. "Which would lead them straight here. That old fool."

"He thought I was in the Order Headquarters," Harry reasoned. "He wouldn't have known I had snuck out."

"We need to leave, now!" Fred said. "They could be here in moments."

Hermione spun around, shouting, "PACK!" Her wand waved once and everything in the room floated into the air and disappeared into a small bag on the far end of the room. When it had done, she pointed her wand at it, saying, "Accio!"

The bag zipped into her hand and they departed. Running out of the room, Harry followed the others down the stairs. A banging sound came from below, stopping them where they stood.

Hermione grabbed all of them by the arms, saying, "Trust me."

Harry looked at her and nodded. She turned and everything dissolved into the blur of Apparition and they were gone.


	17. Chapter 17: Settled

"Come, this way," Hermione said, gesturing for them to follow. "And stay quiet."

Harry hurried, racing along with the twins slightly behind her. She had Apparated them away, but not far from the building. They were a few blocks on, at most. If the Ministry hadn't been watching for his Trace before, they might be now, especially if the raid at the Order Headquarters had been designed to catch him.

"I've been planning a back-up hiding place for some time," she said, her breath unsteady. "It was only a matter of time before they found us out."

"What about the others?" he asked.

There was a cracking sound nearby. Harry froze, looking around. There was no motion. Then, he saw a car clicking by with a very loud engine at the end of the block. He breathed, in relief, looking at the other three. They were all looking as relieved. Fred nodded to Hermione and she turned back about.

"We have a safety protocol," Hermione said when they got moving again. "If I don't send out a bird from the building at morning, a little dove that flies in some random direction, it isn't safe, and we fall back to the second location."

"This way," she said, suddenly drawing them into a random building via an unlocked door.

"This is your backup?" Fred asked. "It doesn't look very secure."

"I thought we taught you better?" George said.

"This is just the entrance of a safe conduit for Harry and me," she answered. "I have had a number of them set up beneath London. It hides the Trace - like the safe places - but during transit. That can make it harder to follow us. Our trail will end here and even if they follow us into the underground, it has hundreds of ways in and out. They could search for years and miss the secret entrance to the hiding place."

"Good thinking," Harry said. "We'll need to think of a way to stop the Trace from giving us away completely."

They walked through the first room they reached, some sort of lobby, and around into a large open area with rusted out machines. Harry thought it had to be some old Muggle facility, long out of use.

"A good goal," she said, "but why? If we control the transit and the places we stay at, it should be safe enough. And breaking the Trace system is a good way to get noticed. I can't imagine they would accept that without trying to repair it."

"I've been reading up on the Trace," Harry said. "Paris had some interesting books about the magic behind it, and I think-"

"Could you two flirt on your own time?" Fred asked.

"Book lover flirting is quite something, eh?" George asked his brother.

"This is serious stuff," Hermione said, opening a hatch beneath one of the machines. "And I happen to think Harry's research is quite important. Some days, I wish I had taken Maxime up on her offer. To study in the French library and school…"

"Wow, she never even offered me that option," Harry said. "Though, she did let me use her remote library."

"Invaluable experience," she replied. "I'm jealous!"

"Come on," Fred said. "Shouldn't we be climbing down?"

"Yes, yes," Hermione said, climbing down the ladder quickly.

Harry followed, seeing a light emerge from the space below him. When he had reached the bottom, he found Hermione had illuminated her wand. He lit his own, saying, "Lumos."

"Harry?" Hermione asked, "Are you using a different want?"

"Yeah," he said, looking at it again. "Seems to work alright. I had to leave my wand outside of the barrier to come through. Taking down the barrier will give me the chance to get it back."

"He got it from Ollivander," Fred said.

"That's why I came to London first," Harry said. "I didn't know where any of you were, but I needed a wand. I snuck into Diagon Alley and spoke with him. He told me the twins had a shop nearby…"

"More time to chit chat later," George said. "I thought I heard something in the warehouse behind us. They could be trying to catch us."

"Okay," Hermione said. "Stay close."

She led them on a dizzying trek through a series of pipes short enough that Harry had to duck slightly to move through them. The twins ducked even more, running along crouched over. Harry was certain that he had lost all sense of direction enough times that he would never find his way out on his own by the time they came to an abrupt halt. Hermione looked ahead and behind before running her wand over the wall in several strange patterns.

With a flash, an outline appeared in a great rectangle along the wall, wide enough for all of them to walk through it. Waving them in, Hermione waved her wand to close it afterwards. Harry saw this vaguely, out of the corner of his eye, because his eyes were distracted by the sight ahead. There was a large foyer with a dozen rooms branching off in each direction. It was simple, but had an old elegance. Straight ahead, a door was cracked open with a faint, flickering light behind it. Harry found himself crossing the old tartan rug in the centre and pushing open the door, his new wand in hand.

The door opened into a study warmed by the light of a crackling fireplace on the left end of the room. A figure leaned over a desk, head in hands and shoulders slouched. Suddenly leaning back, the man sighed, shaking his head. At that point, Harry caught a view of his face in the sliver of light that reached it.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed, hurrying forward.

Remus turned, startled. His grimace turned into a smile seeing Harry and transformed into one of confusion seeing the other three. Still, he took Harry's hand in his, saying, "Harry, it is good to see you. I- Something has happened, hasn't it? Hermione? You wouldn't come here otherwise…"

"They were followed," she said, frowning. "We had to abandon the first facility."

"I'm just glad you are alright," Remus said, looking around at them. "Where have you been, Harry?"

"It's a long story," Harry said, "but there's no time for that now."

"Why?" Remus asked. "You've only just arrived and-"

"The Order is under attack," Harry said. "Moody messaged me at the first - er - facility, to tell me that. I think he wanted me to stay away."

Remus' smile faded away. He looked between all of them. "Under attack? Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "That's what he said," he replied. "It was a message and it sounded like Moody, in any case."

"I'll need to let Dumbledore know," Remus said, rising. "Sorry, I don't mean to go on such short notice, but-"

"We understand," Hermione said. "Find out if it is safe for the twins to go back to the shop. The enemy might know they've found Harry."

"Yes," Remus replied, grabbing a jacket from the back of his chair. "You'll be safe here. Don't go anywhere until someone lets you know it is safe to travel."

He rushed out, then, passing all of them to go to the door they had entered. Harry just watched him go, sighing. So many people coming and going, and here he was hiding in the dark.

"Let's - er - get everyone settled in," Hermione suggested. "It's late - or really early - so we probably won't hear anything until daylight."

"What if someone does find their way in?" Harry asked, frowning.

"We can put up an alarm ward," she said. "It will wake one of us if there is someone crossing the entry."

"Got it," he said, making his way to the front and pulling out the unfamiliar wand from his pocket.

"We'll… leave you to that," Fred and George said as one. "Dibs on the upstairs room. Night kiddos!"

They zipped up the stairs before Harry or Hermione could say anything, a blur of red hair and leaping, robes. Harry conjured a few wards, including one to scare any surprise entrants. In the event of an attack, they would need any time they could get. Harry turned back to the room to find Hermione still standing in the centre, watching him. A distant door closed before either said anything.

"I-" Hermione said, smiling sadly, "I still can't believe you're back. You… you were gone so suddenly and … it feels like I'm going to wake up with you gone again."

Harry furrowed his brow. It pained to hear the sadness he had left in his wake. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said. "I tried to come back faster."

"It's okay," she said, holding her elbow. "I know that. And, I knew that the Room had sent you somewhere far… I had just wanted you safe, and maybe I should have been more specific."

Harry stepped closer, saying, "We didn't know what would be safe at the time. I wanted to send you to safety, too. I'm not sure what happened, but I'm glad you are alright."

Hermione chuckled. "You succeeded, a bit," she said.

Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at her curious. What had she meant by that?

"I appeared in another part of Scotland," she replied. "I had to find my way back to London, too."

"So, He didn't hurt you?" he asked, finally coming close to her. He could see the look of happiness in her eyes. He hoped his own was as clearly reflected.

"No," she said. "I was gone as soon as you were. I don't think You-Know-Who knew what happened."

Harry touched her cheek. "Thank goodness," he said, hardly sure of what else he could say.

"And you?" Hermione asked, leaning her head slightly into his hand. "I hope travelling so far didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, his voice sounding small in his ears, feeble, somehow. He cleared his throat. "I woke up in Gibraltar, just a bit tired for it all."

Hermione's face looked concerned, and she pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. From Harry's position, he could mostly see her bushy, dissheveled hair, but could feel her shaking slightly against him as he held her close. Harry put his left hand under her chin, gently lifting her face to look up at his.

"We're both here, and I'm not going anywhere," he said, smiling down at her.

Hermione looked on the verge of speech, but she kissed him, instead. Harry had missed this, missed her being there with him. He felt a hollow void filling, and that tired, wariness he had had for the past months was washed back, pushed away from him. He kissed her back, and the moment lingered, happily. Harry wished they could remain like that forever, forget all the horrible things in the world, just be…

At last, their lips parted and Harry could feel the rush of heat in his cheeks. Hermione looked red, too, flushed and with an unending smile. Neither had moved away, and Harry could not think of why they should. She held onto him as he did to her, comfortably, gently. Gone was the strong force of the initial hug, this was as it had been before.

"Harry-" Hermione began. "D-"

Bam. The door at the entrance flew open, and a mix of warning sounds and a local klaxon noise at the door beat against them. Harry struggled to reach for his wand, releasing Hermione in the process but getting tangled up in his robes slightly as he did. Hermione was faster on the draw, her face paling and clearly afraid as she turned to face the door. Harry followed, his wand pointing into the darker shadow that framed the door.

"Enough of that," said a familiar voice. With a wave of a long wand, all of the sounds stopped, and in stepped a tall wizard with a long, white beard, a pair of piercing eyes observing the pair through a pair of tiny half-moon shaped glasses.

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"Harry, my lad, it is good to see you," Dumbledore said, smiling. "We are all happy you have come back safe and sound. And I see you have found Miss Granger, of course." He nodded to her, benignly.

"Did Remus send you?" Harry asked.

"I must have missed him in transit," Dumbledore said, sounding regretful. "But let us not linger in the entryway, we have much to discuss."

He waved his wand at the door behind him, shutting it, silently. Then, he began moving forward.

"But, professor," Harry began. "The Order's been-"

"Thank you for your concern, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I am well aware of the events of this evening. Better perhaps than most. Everyone in the Order has been safely relocated and our facility carefully emptied of anything useful to the enemy. Please." He gestured to the open study with its slowly dying fire.

Harry glanced at Hermione. Her face was a mask, a bit hard, but also confused. Whatever had happened between her and the Headmaster had not been forgiven nor forgotten so easily. Harry could understand that, but he hoped they could all work towards a common purpose now, at least.

"I understand," Dumbledore said, taking a seat by the fire, "you must both be exhausted, and I beg but a few minutes of your time before you get your rest." He flicked his wand at the embers of the fire, bringing it back to a full burn.

"How did you find this place?" Hermione asked, terse, her eyes locked on the Headmaster. "Everyone who knows of it has sworn they would keep it a secret."

Dumbledore smiled, nodding. "Never fear, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "It was none of your confederates who revealed your location. I merely followed you and the others, carefully, to ensure no one else found your hiding place tonight. When Harry's Trace was revealed from the message, I knew others would notice, as I had. You will be pleased to know that all of their efforts have been foiled. Some may find returning to the surface a challenge, indeed. But that is neither here nor there."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Had it been that easy to find them? With the labyrinthine turns Hermione had taken within the tunnels, Harry had felt certain it would be difficult, where not quite impossible. Still, it was Dumbledore. Things seemed possible to him that others would dismiss as a flight of fancy.

"We will have time for more questions tomorrow," Dumbledore said, "I assure you. I have come tonight, expressly - though I am happy you are back Harry - to speak to Miss Granger."

"To me?" Hermione asked, looking startled. For the first time, her frown disappeared, but it was not immediately replaced with anything.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes," he said, losing his usual jovial smile. "I'm afraid I have put you in a rather difficult position, Miss Granger, an unfair one, I may add, in pitting your loyalty to the Order against your desire to find Harry. You will, I hope, forgive the failings of age. We, too long caught in our strategies and concerns, forget the simple purity of young love. It is painfully obvious to me, now, that you would leave the first chance you had, given what I put before you. And for that, I apologise. I hope you will forgive an old man his failures, miss."

Hermione looked taken aback, but Harry could see a touch of distrust in her features. She didn't say anything for a moment, and Harry wasn't sure how bad an idea it would be to try to speak at that point. Just looking at Hermione, though, he couldn't think that anything he said would help. She and Dumbledore needed to settle this between them. He was a newcomer into this squabble, as much as he might hope it would end amicably.

"Headmaster-" Hermione began, but Dumbledore put up a finger.

"Please, Miss Granger," he said, "I insist you may call me Albus. I am no longer your headmaster or professor."

"A-Albus," she said, "then please, use Hermione. If you look for equal footing, let us start there, at least."

"Very well, Hermione," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Please, go on."

"I'm curious what brought you here, tonight," she said, frowning. "Not, in general, as I expect we all may do better working together. I suspect that is a part of it, of course. But the timing of it, the attack on the Order and Harry's return… were you not interested in mending fences until Harry returned or you were worried about your Order?"

Harry stared at her. Hermione had a stony expression, her mouth moving with a touch of distaste. Dumbledore's eyebrow raised. He did not smile in his customary manner, but he looked at her steadily.

"Hermione," he answered, "despite appearances, I had intended to meet with you tonight, if possible. Tomorrow being more likely, as I could not be sure of your late hour. I had flown into London specifically for that purpose. I could not have anticipated Harry's return nor the attack on the Order this evening. I was en route to the Order when I was intercepted - warned of the attack and the evacuation. That was when I was alerted to Harry's return. Following that, I found the four of you retreating through the streets. I swear upon my honour, Hermione, with Harry as my witness with you, that this is the truth. Our situation has saddened me for some time. I ask again, for your forgiveness, in hopes that we might work together, uniting more of this Wizarding world against the forces we all face."

"I-," Hermione said, carefully. "I understand, Albus. I understand you are facing much, and I can see how that might have led to this. I c-can forgive that. You… you asked me to do something, though, that was completely against who I am. That I cannot forgive, Albus. If we don't stand up and help those who matter to us, how are we better than them? How are we better than the Death Eaters who want to win? If our only point is to win and then assume everything will go back to how it was before because we won, we've lost sight of what we are! This is a war, and not one we can win at any cost. This is a war we have to win together, helping each other, Albus. If you're willing to meet me there, we can work together. If not, please… come back when you can."

Harry stared at Hermione. He found himself smiling, but knew it was a situation that was far too tense, far too hard for that kind of emotion. It wasn't a happy smile, though, he discovered, on reflection. It was a smile of pride, pride in Hermione. She had taken a stand. It may not be against their enemy directly, but about letting the resistance bend more like them. Neither of the other two were looking at him, so no one asked what he was smiling about. Dumbledore considered Hermione and she, him. Her eyes were fierce and determined, his reflective, thoughtful.

"I think we can work together, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "We need more people who watch our course with such discerning eyes. I, myself, would very much like to hear dissenting views. Too many listen and do as I say. It comes with the beard, I suspect." He said the last with a touch of that twinkle in his eye, though his lips still held the seriousness. "If you will, the Order would benefit greatly from your view, and it would certainly benefit from both of your ideas."

Dumbledore glanced between her and Harry, his eyes again as piercing as usual. The thoughtful look had retreated, and he looked the same, wise old figure he always had. Hermione looked at Harry, their eyes meeting. He could see some uncertainty in it, but less wariness than before. She had a question in it, one Harry thought he had an idea of how to answer.

"Perhaps," Harry suggested, "Hermione can set conditions? If they are not met…?"

He looked at Hermione, prompting. She smiled back at him before looking over at Dumbledore. The old man nodded, gesturing to her.

"We'll have autonomy," she said. "If we agree to help, we will, to our fullest, but if we have a different idea, we can go another way. And if you try to force your way again… we will not listen to another apology, at least I will not." She glanced at Harry, growing a touch pink.

Dumbledore nodded, putting his fingers together. "Might I add a wrinkle?" he asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"If we are working together," he said, "even should you pursue another course… I would ask you keep me informed, and I will do likewise, where I am able. There are some secrets no one must know. Lives are at risk, and I would not risk information getting out, you may understand."

"Then, where we are able," Hermione said, nodding, "I will keep you informed, as well."

"Agreed," Dumbledore said, holding out his hand.

Hermione took it, looking at the man with confidence. After a strong clasp, Dumbledore released and stood.

"Thank you for your time, Hermione, and Harry, of course," he said. "I will let you rest, now. You must be exhausted. Should you need anything, let us know."

"You don't want us to move to the Order?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shrugged. "How autonomous could you be, then?" with a twinkle in his eye, he smiled. "Now, I will have Remus come by sometime tomorrow and arrange a meeting. Good night."

Then, the old wizard departed, leaving quickly and waving his wand to shut the door behind him. Harry turned to find Hermione looking at him.

"Do you think I did the right thing?" she asked, looking uncertain.

Harry smiled. "You were brilliant, Hermione," he said. "I - I couldn't be prouder."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Harry," she replied. "I bet this was the last thing you expected to come back to."

Harry laughed. "It's a bit different than I could have guessed," he said. "Still, I'm back here with you. That's all I could ask for."


	18. Chapter 18: Surprise

Hermione stepped into the foyer, yawning and shaking her head. What was it now? They'd had half a dozen visitors since the meeting with the Order in the morning. Everyone had been cordial or kind, depending on how well they knew Hermione and the others, but it had been a bit exhausting. Running a secret organisation was a bit difficult when there were so many who knew it existed.

She fought a creeping smile as she approached the door. Despite the exhaustion and the avalanche of people, Harry was here. Hermione had found herself smiling much more frequently than in the past couple months, randomly. Despite the situation, the fear, the hiding, and the worry for the wizarding world, Harry made everything a little brighter. When they hadn't had visitors, he'd spent the day going over what intelligence the Order had procured around the barrier. It wasn't much, but Harry was taking his time going through it, taking careful notes and cross-checking accounts with his own and Sirius' experiences.

Hermione had not had time to help, but she could feel that excitement in her grow when he mentioned something he found aloud. She had always loved working with Harry, of course, but this was something else. It wasn't just theory. He was working on a very tangible problem that could save lives. The inability to call on outside aid, or to transport out fleeing people was of paramount importance. Thanks to Harry, though, they knew the latter could be achieved, at a cost. No wands could cross the barrier. If people were desperate, though, flight was suddenly an option again. Harry did not accept that as enough, though.

Knock. Knock. Hermione was brought back to the moment as she reached the door. Whomever it was had shown more restraint than most visitors. Almost all of them opened the door as though it were their own home. Dumbledore had started that, of course, but the rest of them were not Dumbledore. That man could somehow get away with more. It irritated Hermione some, but he had come to her in apology. Seeing that humility from a great wizard with incredible accomplishments and skills did mean something to her.

Pulling the door open a crack, Hermione could see a few figures faintly illuminated in the darkness without. Her mouth gaped, though, seeing the person at the front, and immediately the group made sense. She pulled the door fully open to be immediately engulfed in a powerful Molly Weasley hug. Hermione hugged the woman back, happy to see a friendly face.

"My dear," Molly whispered, "you have been through too much, all of you."

"But- how?" Hermione asked. "I thought you had to stay at the Burrow."

"Charlie is holding down the fort, so to say," she said, letting go. "He regrets his absence, however."

The others had entered around them, and Arthur shut the door, giving Hermione a friendly smile. "I'm glad to see you are well," he said.

Hermione could see the twins, grinning mischievously in the back, giving her identical looks. Ron and Ginny were there, too, both looking around at the place in awe.

"Oh, my manners," Hermione said, blushing. "Please, all come in. I'll get you some tea. Harry's in the office at the end. I'll fetch him."

"Do not worry yourself, dear," Molly said, patting a large bag she was carrying. "I've brought some things. You two will not have been eating as well as you ought. Especially if these two had anything to do with it."

"Mum!" Fred exclaimed.

"We'll have you know, we eat three square meals a day," George added.

"And how many of those are as nutritious as your mother makes?" she asked, shooting them a look.

"All, of course," Fred said.

Together they added, "We learned from the best."

"Precisely why I'm here," she said, arguing back.

Arthur walked into the space, a bit. "Hermione," he said, "I'd love to see the place you've made here. Can you show us around?"

"It's pretty simple," she said, but took his lead in evading the twin-Molly argument. Ron and Ginny followed as she gestured up the stairs. "Up there are the four bedrooms. We may have to expand if more people end up staying…"

"The office is just up here," she continued, opening the door at the end of the room. "We've had to soundproof the door because there have been an influx of visitors, and it's hard to get any work done in the meantime. Harry, we've got guests!"

"Oh?" Harry asked, turning about. "Arthur! Ginny and Ron, too! Welcome!"

He rose coming to greet them at the office door. By this point, whatever argument had been continuing with the twins and Molly had ended. She led them - they looking cowed and she, triumphant, - to meet Harry at the office door. A number of hugs and admonishments followed.

"I'll tell you everything I can," Harry promised. "But, maybe at tea? We do have a kitchen large enough to fit us all, and I think it is around that hour…"

"I will be taking care of the tea," Molly broke in, patting her bag again. "I've brought a few-"

"Dozen," Fred whispered under his breath.

"Things…" she ended, looking over at her son, suspicious.

"That sounds wonderful," Harry said. "The kitchen is just through here. We can catch-up there."

Harry and Hermione showed the Weasleys the kitchen, a large enough space, though not quite so homely as the Burrow's kitchen. Hermione could see Mrs. Weasley evaluating the cupboards, the utensils and the counter space with an assessor's eye. She was sure a tut was being withheld at very great effort. Hermione felt a blush coming on. She had designed the place, but the kitchens had not necessarily been her priority, at the time.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, tentative.

"This will do quite well," Molly said, a smile brimming on her face. "Arthur, doesn't it remind you of our first kitchen at the Burrow?"

Arthur chuckled. "That was a bit smaller than this one, dear," he reminded her.

"Yes, but we could still eat well," Molly said. "Food, I've always said, is a staple. If you've got food on your table, you're doing alright." She made a swift glance at Harry, tutting to herself. "You've not been eating enough, Harry."

"I was travelling, a bit," Harry said in a meek voice.

He did look a bit thinner than before the Final Task. Harry had eaten well, though, so she wasn't worried. He looked exhausted, though, as much as Hermione felt. She was sure this was not lost on Mrs. Weasley's piercing gaze. The older woman went about the food preparation as the rest of them settled about the table.

Hermione hesitated. "Mrs. Weasley, is there anything I can do?"

"No, no, you go chat with the others," Molly said, kindly. "I'll need you lot to set the table after, dear."

Hermione sat at the table, finding herself across from Harry. The others had crowded about him, Arthur on one side and Ginny/Ron on the other. The youngest kids looked at Harry with interest, obviously expecting some amazing story. Arthur had a frown embedded on his forehead as Harry went through his travels. Hermione had heard the story a few times, so it did not have any new surprises. She just watched Harry speak as the others were wrapped up in the story.

"And how is your new wand?" Arthur asked.

"Still somewhat unfamiliar," Harry said. "It works fine, just not quite as easy to use as my old."

"It's still sizing you up," Arthur said, astutely. "They have to appreciate you as you do them. That's how the best partnerships work, whether it be with people, magical creatures or wands."

"My wand broke playing Quidditch with Fred and George last year," Ron said, giving his parents uncomfortable looks. "Of course, it was Charlie's old wand, first. The new wand took ages to feel like normal."

"He flew into a tree," Ginny commented, giggling.

"The Bludger knocked me into it," Ron replied, sniffing. "So, really, it's Fred's fault."

"I was Keeper, you lug," Fred replied.

"And we didn't even have Bludgers out," George said. "It was a pick-up game at the Burrow."

"There was too a Bludger," Ron countered. "It knocked me sideways."

"When did that happen?" Harry asked.

"Last summer," Ron said, scratching his head. He pulled out his wand, looking it over. "I liked my old wand, but I like the new one, alright."

"Are you two going back to Hogwarts, soon?" Harry asked. "I heard school is about to start again. Keeping track of time has been hard, lately."

"Yes," Ginny said, nodding fervently. "We'll be going to King's Cross next Monday."

"That fast, huh?" Harry asked, a touch of sadness in his voice.

"It'll be great with everyone back," Ginny said. "The last year ended so strangely."

"Tha-that's putting it mildly," Hermione muttered.

Ginny looked at Hermione with an amused look. Hermione wasn't sure if the girl was being funny or serious. After all, Harry and she could not go back, not until Voldemort was defeated, anyway. Surely, Ginny knew that, right?

"Have they picked a new Headmaster?" Harry asked, cutting the silence.

"Ah, yes," Fred said, looking sour. "They've given the job to Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asked, surprised. "I mean, I thought McGonagall would have been the best prepared."

"It's not about preparedness," Arthur replied, "Severus is Albus' spy in the Death Eaters as you might have suspected."

"Arthur-" Molly said over her shoulder, warningly.

"I'm just explaining why he's been chosen," Arthur replied. "Even I don't know specifically what his duties have been, for us or for them. Still, he's built up enough trust to get the role. That was a relief to a number of us. There were much worse choices."

"Bellatrix," Fred suggested.

"Or Lucius," George added.

"Or even snake-head himself," Fred finished, shuddering.

"He'd never go that much into the open," Hermione said. "That's what I heard from Moody, anyway."

"Moody knows his Dark Lords," Arthur said, nodding. "He sent along his apology, by the way. He had no idea Harry was with you at your old location."

"It's understandable," Hermione said, shrugging. "And it is better hidden here. I did like the sunlight the other place had, but…"

"If we got in one of my mates from the Magical Maintenance department in here," Arthur said. "They could set-up windows like we have there, but…"

"Thank you," Hermione said. "But I wouldn't want to risk trouble for your mate over that. It's not even real sunlight, so we will make do."

Arthur smiled.

"Any news on your business?" Harry asked the twins.

"All smoothed over," Fred said.

"The Ministry understands we had an intruder and had to flee temporarily," George added. "It doesn't paint us in the best light, but…"

"Wouldn't they be suspicious?" Hermione asked.

"One of the Death Eater goons did make a mess in the shop," Fred said. "It wasn't that much of a stretch to say we had to leave when we heard someone break in."

"But if they made a mess…?" Harry began.

"Apparently," Arthur said, "our intelligence told us one of their numbers has been stalking the shop for some time and broke orders to break in, allegedly looking for Harry. When Harry's Trace activated across town, he was reprimanded by top Death Eaters… quite, harshly."

Fred and George looked at each other uneasily, frowning. "You didn't tell us that, dad," they said, together.

"None of this is very pleasant," Arthur said. "But you're all safe, and that's important."

"If any of you do need to find a safe place," Hermione said. "We can accommodate you, here. I might need a little help with expanding the space more than I have, but it can be done."

"Thank you for that," Arthur said, smiling down at her. "I hope we shall never need to take you up on it."

"I'm just glad you two are safe, now," Molly said, looking around from the steaming pots on the hob. "Out of harm's way and close. We can all look out for you better, here."

"And, I am happy you and Albus seemed to have patched things up, Hermione," Arthur said. "When people on the same side cannot agree, it is much harder to face an opponent together."

"We've come to an understanding," Hermione said, nodding. "It would be a bit quieter here very soon, otherwise."

"Why is that?" Ginny asked.

"Most of the group are going back to Hogwarts," she replied. "Too many families could be in jeopardy if they stay or sneak out of the school. You-Know-Who's people would be suspicious."

"Wait," Ginny said, eyeing Hermione and Harry, "most? Aren't all of you coming back?"

"They can't, Ginny, dear," Arthur said. "Not for now, anyway."

"What?" Ginny asked. "But, why not?"

"The Ministry is looking for us," Harry said. "Me particularly, but after what happened in the Room of Requirement…"

"They've been looking for me, too," Hermione said, feeling a welling of sadness. "My parents had to travel overseas, and our house was…"

"We retrieved some of your things," Arthur said, "just before they broke in. Albus has had people checking everything for detection charms and the like, but what we can bring you, we will."

"Th-thank you," Hermione said, feeling, again, that emptiness, the worry when she thought again about how she had no idea where her parents were. "Have- has A-Albus said anything about my p-p-"

"He said he made them safe," Arthur said. "I think the less about it any of us know, the better."

"I know," she said, thinking back to that hurried goodbye. So many things she wished she had said, but had not.

"Tea is ready!" Molly cut in, swooping down upon the table. She pointed to the twins. "You two, plates. Ginny, dear, cutlery. I believe it is that drawer, there."

Harry and Hermione began to rise.

"No, no," she said. "You two have been through quite enough, lately. You can rest. Let us take care of everything."

"Th-thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione managed, her voice a bit more choked than she had expected.

"You're welcome, my dear," Molly replied, her eyes nearly in tears, herself. Brushing the tears from her eyes, she added, "Tonight is not a night for sadness. We're celebrating Harry's safe return and, belatedly, his birthday. Don't think we have forgotten, young man."

"You don't turn fifteen every day," Arthur said, using his wand to raise a large cake out of Mrs. Weasley's bag. It had a Ravenclaw decoration on the top with a little broomstick beneath.

Hermione beamed, smiling in Harry's direction. He looked completely surprised. Evidently, his birthday had been completely forgotten during his travels, not that Hermione could blame him for that. She had not forgotten, but without knowing where he was, she could only wait and hope for his return.

The dishes and silver were laid out and the food was served. Hermione had not seen such a feast since dinner before the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone dug in and were quickly as loud and as boisterous as any meal she had had at the Burrow. Molly took a seat next to Hermione with Arthur on the other side.

"How have you been keeping, dear?" Molly asked, ladling a large portion of shepherd's pie onto Hermione's plate.

"Good," Hermione said. "I've been busy trying to help out, and mostly indoors, but…"

"But you clearly need to eat more," Molly said, nodding to herself as she set some chicken on Hermione's plate.

Hermione laughed. "I suppose," she replied. "We're just lucky the Hogwarts house elves offered to help bring food. Getting food otherwise would be much more difficult. Albus did enable a lot of things, I guess."

She took a bite of the pie, feeling the warmth spread through her. It had been a cooler night than she had thought. Deep in the underground any summer heat was lost to the layers of earth above them. Molly was serving herself when Arthur leaned over.

"The food is delicious, dear," he said to his wife. "You always out do yourself for guests."

Molly gave him a smile, and dug into her own plate. "I just want to make sure this lot are taken care of. They've enough worries without thinking about food. Merlin knows they've had to put up with more than we ever had."

"You-Know-Who was rising when you were out of school, though, right?" Hermione asked. "I read it was the ten years or so before he fell, right?"

"Yes, well," Molly said. "Those were different times, and we were adults, weren't we? You are all still just children, you know? You're supposed to be learning and having adventures at the school, not hiding in a bunker or being chased across three countries. Goodness."

"Albus will help set it right," Arthur said. "He has big plans, of course."

Molly nodded. "Of course, he will," she replied. "You just always want things better for your children than you had it, and here you are, having to face the same fight we had back then."

A cheer went up from the other side of the table, catching Hermione's attention. Fred and George had managed to get Ron to eat one of their inventions. A bright orange bird sat where the boy had sat, glaring in the most adorable way at his older brothers.

"Fred and George Weasley!" Molly exclaimed, her voice cutting through the sound of excitement at the other end. "You turn him back at once!"

"Alright, alright," Fred said.

"Keep your hair on, mum," George said, tapping the bird on one wing with his wand.

Ron reappeared in a burst of orange feathers that evaporated instantly. He was still glaring at his brothers, but glanced carefully at his mum before muttering under his breath.

"You lot better stop it," Molly said, her voice still carrying. "If I see one more person transform this evening…"

The twins laughed, but stilled at a look from her. Hermione could see Harry reach around Ginny to pat Ron on the shoulder. She could see him mouthing, "Are you okay?"

Ron shrugged, brushing off Harry's hand. "I'll get you one of these days," he said to the twins. "You won't even see it coming, eh?"

"I'd like to see you try, brother mine!" Fred said.

"Big words, Ronnie, big words," George replied, chuckling.

Ron sighed and pushed the food on his plate to one end of it, getting new - untainted food from a bowl further down the table. Harry gave the twins a look, but shook his head soon after. Their antics were fairly normal. It was unusual they did it only so close to their mother this time. Hermione wondered if they were feeling alright, themselves. Typically, they did everything they could to hide it from her wrath. Today, it was like that didn't matter. Hermione guessed they must have been stressed, too. The attention had largely been on Harry and herself, but they had certainly not been immune to trouble. That Death Eater stalking them, for instance. She frowned, thinking about it. Hopefully, they would remain safer, now.

"So, Hermione," Arthur said, "Albus tells me you and Harry are doing some research about the barrier."

"Yes," she said, blushing as she realised she hadn't been paying attention, "mostly Harry, but I'll be helping, too. There hasn't been much intelligence about how it is created, yet. It would take enormous amounts of magical power."

He nodded. "We've tested points all around the country," Arthur said. "It's impenetrable, with a wand, leastways."

"I'm just amazed it has persisted," Hermione replied. "Most spells do not have a very long life."

"They could reassert it," Arthur said. "But that would use the same amount of magical power. It would take hundreds, maybe more, wizards like Albus. Quite extraordinary."

"The sooner they open that, the better," Molly said. "Bill's out there and he can't get back quickly enough."

"He was in Egypt, I think?" Hermione asked.

"Albus asked him to check on Harry in Paris," Arthur said. "Bill must have just missed Harry, but he has been helping Madame Maxime and her people."

Hermione could hear a note of pride in his voice. Molly's face had taken up a worried look. She could tell the older woman was concerned about the son she could not see. Hermione was certain her parents must feel the same way.

"What's Charlie up to?" she asked. "He must have come back in before they closed the barrier."

"He came through just before they shut it," Arthur said. "Dragon work is scarce in England, but he helps when a wild one comes through. Otherwise, Albus has him helping with his many projects."

Hermione glanced down the table, catching Harry's eye with a smile. She could see the four at the end were laughing, and arguing lightly about Quidditch. Even Ron was back into it, arguing on George and Ginny's side.

"The Holyhead Harpies have improved," Ron said. "They used to be quite poor, but they're underrated."

"Underrated for a reason," Fred said. "Right, Harry?"

"I haven't really kept up this year," Harry said.

"They're a shoo-in for the Cup," George replied.

"That captain of theirs," Ginny said. "She's awesome!"

"Jones?" Fred asked. "Don't get me started…"

"You'll be going back to finish your education soon," Molly was saying. "The Ministry can't keep up this charade once the barrier goes down. I mean, keeping children from going to school like they were some sort of criminals! The nerve of it all!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. "I hope so, too. And I know Harry will miss it. He's lived there for years."

"It is a bit of a home to him," Arthur said.

"The Burrow will always be a home to him, if he wants to visit," Molly said. "The last war took too many people… And you, dear, of course."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you," she said.

The Weasleys were the kindest family. They never had anything extravagant, but they shared what they did have. Wherever they gathered had a touch of home to it. Even this place, new as it might be to all of them. Tonight had made it feel a bit more like home.

"Alright!" Molly called after a time, lighting the cake's candles with her wand. "Time for Harry to blow out his candles."

"Make a wish!" the twins called as Harry stood.

He laughed, then stilled his face in seriousness for a moment, and blew out all the candles. Cheers followed and the cake was sliced and served. Hermione watched the others for a bit, enjoying their cake. It was a good celebration, but her mind kept drifting off to the troubles looming. They had a lot to do, and so much counting on it working out. Harry caught her eye, his smile wavering at the sight of her expression.

She brightened. Best not worry him. This was a day to celebrate, after all. They had fewer and fewer of those these days. Pushing back her own worried thoughts, Hermione embraced the celebration which continued well into the evening. By the end, she was well and truly exhausted, but happy. She vowed to hang onto that feeling, remember the night they had had. In dark times, every bright point was stronger, more brilliant for what surrounded it.


	19. Chapter 19: Mysterious Message

Tick. Tock.

Hermione glanced up at the clock on the wall, frowning. The air was heavy and the afternoon had wound long. Her guests were late, very late. Who was it again? Ah, of course. Dumbledore was coming with McGonagall. So many guests in so few days. Maybe Hermione needed more sleep.

Tick. Tock.

She shook her head, standing up and pushing back her chair. Hermione could not focus on the writing in front of her. She had been planning, something. Her confusion bothered her. Maybe she needed a lot more sleep.

Tick. Tock.

Hermione glared at the clock. Its face did not look much changed from when she had first looked, but time always seemed to slow when she paid the most attention to it. Hermione paced, instead, her feet tapping in time to the relentless ticking of the clock on the wall.

Ding, dong, ding, dong… ding, dong, ding, dong. Ding. Ding. Ding. Three already? Hermione looked at the clock. It had jumped ahead, somehow. Shaking her head, she looked over the edge of the desk. The window looked out into the drenching rain. Bucketing showers pummelled the glass, but it was a dull drumming, as something far away. The Thames lay out there, vaguely visible as a dark expanse behind the layers upon layers of rain.

Knock, knock. Hermione turned away from the window, finding herself alone. Shouldn't someone have been here? Why was it so difficult to feel sure? She stepped over to the door and pulled the latch. The door pushed inwards, knocking her back into the middle of the room, staggering more than she should for the minor force. Her eyes widened seeing the guest. It was neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall. Voldemort stood there, laughing and menacing. A blast of green light filled Hermione's eyes.

She awoke, eyes snapping open and Hermione found her breathing ragged. Another nasty dream. She got up quickly, putting on a night robe and brandishing her wand in front of her. Quietly, Hermione slipped out of her room, down the stairs and checked each of the rooms before she was satisfied it had had to have been a dream. In the dark kitchen, Hermione sighed, putting a hand to her forehead and leaning back against the cupboard.

Pop. Hermione started, leaping back and lighting her wand at the small figure that had just appeared. Her wand illuminated a pale creature wearing old rags. It held a hand over its eyes and flinched back from the wand.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, lowering the wand. "You just startled me. Were you bringing food?"

"Apologies, Miss Granger," said Vinken, house elf from Hogwarts. "We did not think you would be awake."

"That's okay, Vinken," she said. "Thank you for all of your help."

Vinken bowed. "It is no trouble, Miss Granger," he said. "The other house elves will bring the food shortly, but I was asked to bring you a message. I meant to leave it on the table, but…. as you are awake. Here it is."

He placed a small roll of parchment in Hermione's hand and stepped back. The outside stated, simply: _Potter and Granger_. She unfolded the paper and read it in her wand light.

 _Mr. Potter and Mudblood Granger,_

 _If my information is very much correct, this message will find your hands shortly. Never fear, this delivery is being done by a third party, and I shall have no knowledge of your whereabouts. I have no wish to sully my feet in whatever rabbit warren you have chosen as your hiding place._

 _Be that as it may, I have stumbled upon some information you may find of value. If you wish to uncover the source of the barrier around Great Britain, seek out the Clock Tower, as the Muggle scum describe it. The Mudblood should know it._

 _Never yours except in spite,_

 _Anonymous_

Hermione stared at the harshly written letter, the cruel jabs and the hint at possible information, and shook her head. The writing was scattered and unrecognisable. It could have been anyone's hand, but they had done everything they could to disguise it. The mysterious benefactor clearly did not want others to know that he or she had sent it. From the writing, though, Hermione suspected it was the work of a Death Eater, or someone of that ilk. Few else would so brazenly use the M- word.

She looked up to Vinken, who was waiting. "Who gave you this letter?" she asked.

Vinken bowed his head, saying, "No one gave it to the house elves, Miss Granger. We found it amidst rubbish left in a hallway of the school tonight. No one was around, and no alarm was sounded for intruders. The hallway is cleaned twice, daily by house elves preventing build up. So, it could not have been there more than half a day."

"Were there any visitors yesterday to the school?" Hermione asked.

"None but returning professors," Vinken said. "I was informed Professor Filch and Sinistra arrived between midday and evening. Term is beginning in a short number of days, so their arrivals have become more frequent."

"Thank you, Vinken," Hermione said. "Please thank the house elves who found it, as well. I, and I'm sure Harry, appreciate it."

"Ever at your service, miss," Vinken said, bowing low before disappearing with a sharp pop.

"What was that?" Harry asked, bursting into the kitchen with his wand in hand. "I heard voices. Are you alright?"

"Just Vinken," Hermione said. "He brought us a message."

She handed it to him as he read it with a confused expression. Harry's frown deepened as he went, and his face was a grimace by the end of it.

"Sounds like a trap," he said.

"Yes, it does," Hermione agreed. "It's also the only lead we've had so far on the barrier."

Harry shook his head. "It's too convenient," he said. "And I don't like the writer. He called you a terrible name, repeatedly. It sounds like something the Death Eaters would say."

"It does," she agreed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I don't care about the opinions of someone like that, but I'm glad you care. That doesn't discredit the source, completely, though. What if it's a disgruntled Death Eater or someone with the Scions that wants the barrier down? Even if we disagree on most everything, it could be our goals align here."

"Then, why don't they break the barrier?" Harry asked. "Why pass it on to students?"

"Well, you are making a pretty big name for yourself, getting out of things you shouldn't," Hermione said. "They will have heard you've made it back from Gibraltar, evading Lucius Malfoy, among others. You even got through the barrier, yourself, once. This after escaping both the Scions and You-Know-Who himself at the Tournament."

Harry shook his head. "It was just surviving," he said. "That's nothing special."

Hermione chuckled. "You're too modest, Harry," she said. "But… I do like that about you."

Harry looked a bit embarrassed, but Hermione beamed at him. He did so many great things and never sought adulations from anyone, not even her. It did sometimes worry her how much he focused on helping others. That brought him trouble more often than not.

"It's possible," she said, "they wanted us to try. If we fail, they might want to pick it up from there learning from it."

"Maybe," Harry replied. "It still could be a trap."

"Then, we prepare ourselves for that," she said. "If it is a trap, we'll just not fall into it."

"If we do do this," Harry said, frowning, "who do we involve?"

"You mean, do we ask Albus?" she said, giving him a knowing look.

"Well, we should tell him, in any case," Harry said. "You did agree to keep him informed."

"But we should keep it small," she said. "The more people there are, the more likely it will be noticed."

"And the harder to keep out of a trap," he agreed. "The real trick is going without our Traces being noticed. They'll be watching for me now that they know I'm in London."

"Perhaps Albus can assist with that," Hermione said. "But I think we should come up with a plan before we go to him. If we have a plan, its harder for him to take it over completely."

"What kind of place is the Clock Tower?" Harry asked, looking at the letter again. "That's an odd name."

"That's only the offical name," Hermione said. "Most people call it Big Ben after its largest bell."

"That sounds familiar," Harry said. "I'm sure someone has pointed it out when I was younger."

"One of the professors?" Hermione asked, thinking of little Harry running around McGonagall or Flitwick's feet through the busy city streets.

Harry nodded, smiling. "They took turns showing me around the country," he said. His face fell a bit, saying, "Back when it was safer to do that."

"We'll fix that," she replied, smirking. "You can't skip out on our continental trip that easily."

"That was not my fault," Harry said, mock serious.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, winking. "Excuses, excuses."

By dawn they had worked out a basic plan. Neither of them had suggested sleep after reading the note. At some point in the night, the house elves must have stealthily returned as they found a trove of fresh food waiting in the cupboards. Hermione was feeling a bit of a drag as she and Harry prepared breakfast, but she brushed it away. They had to sell the idea today. As they were concerned about a trap, Harry didn't want to wait too long to check out the tower. They didn't want to give the enemy too much time to prepare. But they weren't planning to shut down the barrier in one go. An exploratory mission would hopefully shed some light on what they were facing.

Her mind wandered as they ate, and Harry was silent, as well. Both of them kept to their own thoughts throughout, and the only sound that broke through her thoughts was the soft tinkle of silverware on plates. A knock broke Hermione from her reverie, and she looked around in surprise. Then, she shook her head. Of course! It was morning and the string of visitors they had had was continuing.

"I'll get it," she said, stopping Harry from rising. "You finish that. You'll need your strength for our chat with Albus."

Harry gave her a sleepy look of thanks and continued working through his pile of eggs. She stood and walked around to the front door of their hideout and temporary home. Hermione edged the door open slightly, and then pulled it wide when she saw the visitor.

"Come on in," she said, greeting Remus Lupin.

"Thank you," he said, looking at her with a concerned look. "Did you sleep, Miss Granger? You two must look after yourselves or Molly will have all of our heads."

Hermione laughed. "It was a bit interrupted," she said. "We've had a development in the barrier situation, but we'll talk about that in a moment. Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea, please," he said, looking rather bedraggled himself.

Hermione tried to remember if it was time for a full moon or not. It wouldn't affect his visit, of course, as the moonlight alone triggered his werewolf transformation. Still, he clearly did not want to speak about it, so she kept it under her hat.

"Harry, Professor Lupin is here," she called out.

"Just Remus, please," he cut in. "I'm no one's professor these days."

"Sorry, Remus," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, well, mostly," he replied, entering the kitchen just ahead of her. He greeted Harry with a smile and a nod as he took a seat. "Nothing's perfect these days, of course. But If you're making progress on the barrier, that will be one less worry on our plates."

"Harry, show him the letter while I get some tea," she said, flicking her wand at the kettle to get it heating again.

As she brought down a mug and some of the tea from the cupboard, Hermione could hear the light sound of rustling paper and little else. The quick whistle of the kettle coming to a boil proceeded any other sounds, and she was serving up his cup before Remus had finished frowning at the note. Hermione noted that the man's expression closely mirrored that of Harry's when reading it originally.

"This smells like a trap," Remus said. "I'm not sure I'd call it good news at all."

"But someone has clearly gone to lengths to make sure no one else knows he or she sent it to us," Hermione said. "Vinken handed it to me this morning. They found it left in the halls at Hogwarts some time last night. The handwriting, too, looks like it was carefully done to be difficult to decipher."

"Looks like Zonko's Messy Writing Quill," Remus said, squinting at it. "They haven't sold that one since Hogwarts banned it about ten years ago."

"I've never heard of them," Harry said, surprised.

"The professors confiscated them for years before they banned them completely," Remus said. "It made marking essays harder and nearly impossible to distinguish when a student forgot to put their name at the top. As someone who worked there, yes, that happens more often than you'd think."

"How do you know about this?" Hermione asked, curious. "Wasn't that after your time there?"

"The professor's lounge had some interesting chatter," Remus said, shrugging. "Whenever a new prank would arise, the professors who had been around longer would reminisce about pranks gone by. The twins will doubtless live on in infamy for many years."

"They'd love to think so," Harry said, chuckling.

"This worries me, though," Remus said, holding up the paper. "Not just for the old prank quill, but it just smells funny to me, and I've learned to trust my instinct for such things."

"We still think it's worth checking out," Harry replied. "Even if it is a risk, finding out if the base of the barrier is somewhere close will give us something more to work with. We've found nothing else, so far, and no one here or in Paris had heard of anything like it."

"It certainly is an enticing thought," Remus said, sipping his tea. "I think all of us will agree with you, there. Getting in contact with our allies outside, and those who have been stuck on the other side of the barrier coming in will certainly be helpful."

"Not to mention people fleeing for safety," Hermione said. "How many could find shelter when they're targeted now?"

"Less than if they could reach France," Remus said, nodding. "It would be a great help, but we must consider all options. I suggest you bring it up at the meeting this afternoon."

"What meeting?" Harry asked, mirroring Hermione's thought.

"Albus is calling a meeting of all affiliated with the Order," the older man said, "including yourselves and others not in the Order but working closely with it. He has devised a new strategy and wants to include everyone in it."

"Alright," Hermione said, glancing at Harry to see his thoughts. "We'll come."

"How can we come without giving away our position?" Harry asked. "The last time I travelled…"

"Albus has devised a solution," Remus said, cradling the mug between his hands, rocking it back and forth. "It may not be the most pleasant, but it can get you from one place to another."

The old professor dug in his pockets, looking confused, and then tried one inside his jacket. He finally pulled out something from this pocket, his eyes lighting with familiarity.

"Sorry," he said. "I carry too many things. This is what he gave me to lend you, in addition to escorting you to the location."

He held out his hand and opened it. A pair of identical green gems lay in it attached to long silver necklaces that had been scrunched into twisted wads. Hermione gasped, the image immediately recalling something from over a year before.

"Anti-magic gems?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Remus said. "Albus said you would remember these. He used it on Ginny to prevent Riddle from rising up. What most didn't know was that it also blocked her Trace. The Ministry kicked up a fuss about it, but Albus had argued the protective need until they conceded."

"Brilliant," Harry said, taking one. "If we need to do magic, though, we'll have to take them off, right?"

"Yes," Remus said. "Just carrying them does nothing. Albus has integrated the chain loop into the protection. Ginny and her classmates still needed to perform magic in class, so an area protection would not do."

"It's a bit unnerving," Hermione said, taking the other, gently. "I don't like the idea of being cut off from magic completely."

"It's only temporary," Remus said. "When you reach the new headquarters, you can take it off."

"It's a bit like losing your wand, though," she said. "We'll be defenceless while in transit."

"That's why I'm here," Remus said, chuckling. "Though, hopefully, there will be no need for wands whatsoever."

"Alright," Hermione said. "This could help us with our plan, too. Checking out the tower is dependent on not being noticed, in any case."

"You'll have to ask Albus about that," Remus said, gesturing back towards the door. "They're his, after all."

"Of course," Hermione said. "We'll talk about all of this at the meeting."

"Then," Remus said, gulping the last of the tea, "shall we get going? I need to reach a few more individuals after I escort you."

"Sure," Harry said. "Lead the way."

Hermione stood and followed the other two out of the kitchen, still holding the gem in her hand. Its green gleam seemed to bore into her head, enticing and threatening at once. She'd been connected to magic so long, it would feel strange to be completely cut off. Granted, she had had to forego magic in the summers, this one aside, as the Ministry punished students who used magic outside of school. Completely separating from it was a different thing, though. It was like a physical barrier. Still, if this helped them take out the bigger barrier, it would be worth it. And she was quite keen to understand Albus' plans.

Slipping the necklace over her head with a slight hesitation, she stepped towards the door. A flash of her nightmare the night before returned to her. She had completely forgotten about it. As unlikely as it seemed, the dream had been so real, much like the dreams they had had the year before. Shivering, she shook the memory away. There were days for worry and days for action. Today was the latter.


	20. Chapter 20: Urgent

"Thank you all for coming," Albus said, looking across at the gathered group. "I will be brief and open it up for discussion. Firstly, I apologise if some of you have felt in the dark about our plans. Since the breaking of the Ministry, we have had to be quite defensive and hold information tightly. The enemies, for there are two - at least -, are hunting for us. We have had near , I will set things right. You will all share the same level of information.

"We cannot become like the enemy," he added, looking - Harry thought - directly at Hermione with a knowing look. "We must be better and represent the goodness of Wizarding kind. As such, we will not deal in shadows and secrets, at least not amongst our own. I am not saying we will announce our activity in the Prophet."

There were some amused laughs as Dumbledore paused. He smiled at the group before going on.

"Now, then, until this time, we have been defensive," Albus said, "but we must now push on to the offensive. We cannot save the Wizarding community from Voldemort and his ilk, nor these Silver Scions, by being protective only. Before we proceed with the new strategy in detail, I will ask two of our own to speak about these two groups. They have infiltrated the organisations and gathered valuable intelligence for us. Severus?"

Snape stood up, his usual scowl worn simply upon his face. He gave no other sign of acknowledging the audience or Albus' introduction. Albus sat as he began to speak.

"The Death Eaters have started using the Malfoy Manor as their base of operations. Although the organisation is often hidden by walls that the Dark Lord intentionally creates between its members, I can ascertain there are twelve members closest to the Dark Lord and between fifty and sixty other members - some we know are also involved in the Scions. The true overlap is difficult to determine. Many of the lesser members are wands for hire, essentially, muscle. The key members of the organisation are the critical parts that we should focus on, but have no doubt on it. The wands for hire will act against us just as quickly.

"The Ministry is well staffed with members of the Death Eaters. Four of the Heads of Department and the Minister, himself, are known members and affiliates. Members exist throughout the organisation, but a heavy replacement run has been managed at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Three quarters of their guard now work directly for the Dark Lord. The Auror department has been cut back, stripped of all but a paltry label and given desk work worthy of first year officials. Those who have not resigned are under constant suspicion and threat by their superiors. Shacklebolt and Tonks are our two remaining Aurors. Most others have gone into hiding after resignation. Two we know of fled to France prior to the barrier's placement.

"The primary focus of the Death Eaters, at this time, is stabilising the Dark Lord's control over the Ministry and injecting suspicion into the populace, suspicion of neighbours. If you have been near the Ministry Headquarters recently, you will have seen the Muggle blood fear posters. These have been noted in articles and Op-eds for the Prophet, as well."

Then, Snape sat, nodding back to Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded to someone Harry could not see. Before the person could rise, there was a commotion from behind the group. Harry turned, his hand going towards the pocket with his wand, instinctively.

"Albus!" cried a young voice. "Urgent news!"

The door burst open, revealing a winded Nymphadora Tonks, sprinting forward. She seemed overwhelmed with the large number of people present, but shook it off, slowing to a stop near the front of the group, a few steps from Harry, in fact. Every eye was on the young Auror, a few had concerned looks, some surprised, shocked, and a few looked disgruntled. Harry glanced at Hermione, seeing the same uncertainty in her expression. Whatever this was, it was not good.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, suddenly out of his seat and approaching her.

"I'm- fine," she managed, gasping for breath. "The- the Minist- the Minister, Albus."

"What about the Minister?" he asked, concern etched on his face. "Breathe, that's it. A big breath before you go on."

"He- he's declared m-martial law," Tonks stammered. "Anyone without military escort travelling is to be sent directly to Azkaban."

"That's preposterous," Albus said. "How could he enforce it?"

"Why now?" called someone from the audience.

"He's said," she said, "that intelligence has found a plot to destroy the protective barrier and directly assault the Ministry."

Harry caught Hermione's eyes again. Could he have possibly heard someone brought them information? The Ministry bit was new, but…

"Many would have a reason to go after the barrier, but the Ministry seems a strange target for all but the Scions," Dumbledore said. "Kingsley, any idea which group was the source of this?"

"No, Albus," Kingsley said, his booming voice rising over the whispers. "The Death Eaters have an arrangement to come and go. The Scions have appeared focused completely internal to Great Britain. If there is a legitimate attack being stopped, its by someone new. However, the Ministry as a target could be either. If the Death Eaters wish to sow discord or eliminate specific enemies within the Ministry, they would have just as much reason as the Scions…"

"Albus," Harry said, standing. "We have some information that might be relevant. Last night, a Hogwarts house elf brought us a note that was left lying around the school. It was directed to Hermione and me, and gives us a location we should investigate to defeat the barrier. We were going to discuss it in this meeting. Of course, now, it smells even more like a trap…"

Albus listened, looking between Harry and Hermione. Hermione nodded as Harry spoke. Harry was aware that everyone was listening and looking in his direction. Hermione spoke, as well.

"I am not sure if this is related," she said. "The timing is strange, but why give us the way in, and then stop all travel before we tried something? If it was a trap, wouldn't they want to catch us at it we would make a great reason for the travel block."

Albus nodded, frowning. "May I see the note?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, passing the note across Harry to the elder wizard. Albus' brows furrowed more as he perused it. "The handwriting is disguised," he said. "A disguising quill, perhaps?"

"I thought it was Zonko's Messy Writing Quill," Remus said, calling out from the side. "They showed me the letter when I came to collect them."

"Has anyone else seen this?" Albus asked, looking between the three of them.

"We only showed Remus," Harry said. "Vinken brought it to us, but I do not think he or any of the house elves at Hogwarts would have read the contents of an addressed message. They found it in the hall, but very few people are at the school, these days."

"That's why we think the writer put it there," Hermione said. "If they wanted to prevent others from knowing you wrote the note, they would have delivered it themselves and left it where it would be found by only house elves. They would know house elves would consider it a breech of duty to read it. No other hands would carry it between you and destination so securely."

"Headmaster, if I may," Snape said, surprising Harry by his sudden appearance. "It appears to be a rogue element of the Death Eater organisation. The Dark Lord has made finding the boy a pressing need. Someone may be angling to capture the boy to curry favour. It is, then, very likely a trap."

"Curious timing, don't you think, Severus?" Albus asked.

"The Dark Lord leaves the Minister to his own manipulations except where he has a specific need," Snape replied. "I have heard many a report of the Minister's activities ignored by the Dark Lord. Whatever the Minister has done, he has gained trust enough to handle affairs on his own."

"Or Voldemort is giving him rope," Albus muttered. "I sense something deeper here. Severus…"

"I will see what I can find, Albus," Severus said, bowing and sweeping from the room with that same presence he had when departing his classroom after telling off a particularly poor potion failure.

"How are they planning to enforce this travel limitation, Tonks?" Dumbledore asked.

"All public wizarding sites are to double their guards and passes must be provided to allow people to enter places like Diagon Alley or the Ministry. Locals will be provided limited passes for their own areas. Ministry employees will all be interviewed before they are given passes to go to and from the Ministry of Magic."

"Then, I would suggest we adjourn this meeting," Albus said. "Everyone, proceed to your places of residence, for safety. If you are in hiding, take extra care with your transport. Any who find passage home barred or discover danger to themselves or family, we can hide you. If you would like to increase the protections on your dwelling, Remus has a stack of scrolls with details of protective enchantments that may assist. We will resume our discussions at a more fortuitous time. Thank you all for coming. Be safe, everyone."

Harry found the crowd around them standing, and quickly exiting the facility. Remus worked among them, handing out the parchments Dumbledore mentioned, thin scrolls curled into tight rolls. Albus began a tense, whispered discussion with a few others in the Order, everyone gesturing and talking over each other. He looked at Hermione, and found her observing him.

"We should go," she said. "The protective gems may keep us from being tracked, but that doesn't change our appearance. In fact, it prevents us from changing how we look."

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Should we grab the parchment?"

"I got one from Remus when we arrived," she said. "Let's just go. I have a feeling we don't want to be out on the streets for long."

Hermione hurried to one of the exits, up a stair just outside the hall. As labyrinthine as their previous facility had been, Harry found the new one much simpler. The exit was just to the left of the stairs when they had gone up one floor. He wondered if the change had come after the evacuation of their old headquarters. Giving the group easier methods of escape was certainly beneficial.

"Okay," Hermione said, stopping at the door. "Necklaces on."

"Got it," Harry said, putting his on as she put hers on.

They pocketed their now useless wands and stepped out into the street. As Harry had seen on the way in, the entry was a rather busy avenue with high end retail stores to the left and right of the entrance. To his eye, it was a damp, dark little doorway that the eye easily passed over on the way to the next store. Dumbledore had chosen a perfect Muggle camouflage. Not that Muggles typically saw anything like this entrance. They simply did not look to see things out of their ordinary.

They waded through a pack of American tourists wearing "I heart London" shirts and chattering about the sites they had seen that day.

"Do we have to go to the stores, mom?" a young boy asked. "I want to see Big Ben!"

"You just saw the British Museum," his father said. "Didn't you like the Rosetta Stone?"

"Yeah, but I wanna see Big Ben!" the boy cried.

"And your mother wants to see Harrods," the father said. "Now, quiet, or we won't go to any more attractions today. Got it?"

The boy grumbled to himself as Harry and Hermione crossed the street, leaving the Muggle family quarrelling about what to do. Hermione was taking them a different direction from how they had arrived, but Harry knew she had spent more time in London than he had. She also had a pretty good eye for directions.

"Let's take the Tube," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. "We can get Travelcards at the entrance. It should get us back faster."

"Alright," Harry replied. "Do you have Muggle money?"

"I've got a little," she said, feeling about in her bag, "for emergencies…"

Harry could see the Tube station ahead, Knightsbridge. The sign was visible between the flowing people, hidden by a number of hats and heads that crossed in between. One face flashed in front of it, giving Harry a shock. He stopped, looking around the crowd. Maybe he had imagined it? Harry focused, looking at all of the people one after another. Hermione was beside him, digging around for a few coins. She had not noticed he was ill at ease.

"Got it," she said. "Let's-"

"Hermione, I think we need to go another way," he said. "Come on."

Hermione looked alarmed, but followed him as he quickly turned off of the main stretch onto a side road. Harry led her down it and cut over to another busy road. Only when they were back into a crowd did he turn to her.

"I thought I saw Pettigrew," he said. "I think he was in the crowd up near the station entrance."

"Pettigrew?" she asked. "Wasn't he imprisoned?"

"By the Ministry," Harry said, stressing the last word. "If they need everyone out looking for us, they don't seem to have cared whom they send."

"If they're watching Muggle Tube stops," Hermione said, "this could be more difficult than I thought."

"It could be a coincidence," Harry said. "He could be travelling to somewhere."

"I don't think a wizard would take the Tube unless they had to," she replied, looking over her shoulder, nervous.

"Are we going the right way?" Harry asked. "I think we're heading southward."

"Yes, that's correct," Hermione said, looking up. "The sun is setting, so we just keep it to our right."

"Oi! There they go!" came a cry behind him.

Harry didn't stop to look, he just began rushing forward with Hermione at his side. It was possible that had been unrelated, but the voice…it sounded exactly like Pettigrew. They rushed down the street, dodging through Muggle shoppers and businessmen. He could hear sounds behind them, but it was hard for Harry to tell if it was just the crowd reacting to their movement or pursuit. Harry had just started to calm, the sounds growing more distant when a crash sound came from their right. A sign that had been perched on the building nearby had swung loose, missing them and smashing into a bit of the ground to the right.

Hermione accelerated, tugging at his hand. Harry glanced back, bewildered at the occurrence. Then, he saw what was causing it. A dozen figures in dark robes were pushing through the crowd, a few at the front had wands out and were sending jets of light at them. They were willing to ignore the International ban on magic in front of Muggles? Harry never thought the Ministry would go that far.

He ducked as a white jet flew at him, this striking an old Muggle in front of Harry, rendering him stiff as a board. So, they weren't trying to kill. That was at least somewhat positive. Though, Harry couldn't be sure they would continue to be so careful if this went on too long. He looked ahead, seeing Muggles start to flee, cries rising as their eyes filled with fear. They didn't know what was happening, but could clearly see the damage and the injured people.

Hermione's jaw was clenched as they ran around the injured Muggles. He wished he could stop to help them. A part of him felt pain from it, and sadness. These poor people were being hurt because of him. If he wasn't here, they'd be going about their day without trouble. Another Muggle was toppled to his left. Fury burned in Harry's heart. How could they do this?

Harry glanced behind them. The Muggles had cleared behind them. Straight behind him there was a clear space (excluding the fallen Muggles) and the pursuers. It was only a matter of time before they were caught. Before that, who knew how many Muggles might be hurt? Harry ran with Hermione, trying to think of what he could do. They would never get to safety at this rate.

In a flash, he knew what he had to do. Spinning, he tore off the necklace with one hand as he pulled his wand out with the other. Firing spells backwards as he ran, Harry brought down a few defenders in one rush, body binding two and stunning an additional pair. Then, he felt a rush of magical force shoot over his shoulder, making an earth-shattering gong as it struck and disintegrated a shield. The remaining pursuers were shot backwards, landing in a heap amongst the Muggles they hurt.

As Harry turned, Hermione was there, forcing his necklace back over his head with one hand as she put her own back on.

"Come on," she cried. "We have to go. That won't hold them for long."

"What did you do?" he asked, glancing behind them as he ran with her.

"It's a shield breaking spell," she said. "I found it in an old book when I was studying at the old Order headquarters. It tends to be a bit… energetic."

"Brilliant," he said. "You'll have to teach it to me later."

Hermione smiled at him, but then frowned and pushed on, running ahead. Half a block up, they took a right, then a left and weaved, running headlong for Harry had no idea how long. His legs had begun to cramp and burn before too long, but still they ran. He wished beyond anything they could have gone back to help the Muggles, but that was impossible. The best thing they could do was stop Voldemort and his ilk. If he stopped them and cleared the Ministry, the Muggles, witches and wizards would all benefit. That was the priority. He just had to remember it.

Hermione seemed to know where to go. He could see her glance in the direction of Tube stations they came near, but she never stopped or slowed to check them out. They just ran and ran. By the time they reached an area familiar to Harry, he could barely keep his breath. Muggles here went about their day, calmly. They had seen no horror and had heard nothing about the disaster north of here. If they looked at the running pair it was with that faint interest of a moment, clearly forgetting about them as soon as they saw them. Harry would much prefer that amount of attention to the former. Still, the further they put themselves from the pursuers, the better.

Suddenly, she pulled his arm and they slipped down a stair to the left, a niche he would have missed if she hadn't seen it. They were in the tunnels, then, but neither stopped to catch their breath. Harry recognised the direction by the second turn, and raced Hermione the last few turns, and they practically dove into the hideaway when they reached it. Harry gasped, sinking to the ground to get air. Hermione was coughing as she caught her own breath. He may have travelled a lot in the past few months, but most of it was slower, more measured walking. This had been a race much further than he had anticipated.

Harry looked over at Hermione, just happy they had made it. After they recovered their breath, he moved over beside her, sitting on the floor with her head on his shoulder. They sat there for a long time, quiet and thinking. What on earth was happening to London? How would they be able to do anything with the very roads they travelled being watched? Who was safe if they were willing to attack Muggles in broad daylight?


	21. Chapter 21: Alone or Not

Ginny passed down the aisle of the train, ignoring the dozens of full compartments in the long stretch. Ron had slipped into one near the front, reserved for Prefects. He made some passing remark of finding her later, but she did not think he would. The look of excitement on his face was enough to tell her he would remain with his fellow prefects for the duration. Whoever had thought he would make a good prefect was mental, in her opinion.

She lugged her trunk behind her, hearing it thump as it struck on edges and gaps. As much as she ignored everyone else, she felt the same level of notice coming her way. That had been an on-going, of course, for the last year or so, but after the Tournament, things had grown darker still. Ginny would take a little more being ignored after the questions they had pestered her with before and during the trip home.

"You were close to them, right?" "Where do you think they went?" "Surely, they're visiting your family, right?" "It's quite a stunt, isn't it?" "You know where they are, of course. Of course you do." "The Weasleys have always been close with that sort."

Ginny shook her head. She didn't like the idea of voices in her head, even real ones. That had happened. Today was a different day. The first empty compartment appeared to her after she had walked three quarters the length of the train. Slipping inside, Ginny shut the door and then pushed her trunk into the overhead bin with effort. She put on her robes and curled up in the corner of the compartment bench, pulling out one of her books and idling through the pages. Her eyes ran across the diagrams and blurred lines of words, never focusing enough on any to fully take in what she was reading or even the subject matter.

She shut the book, and looked out of the window. It faced onto the platform, and dozens of families gathered in sight. However, Molly and Arthur were no longer amongst them. They had had much to do, for the Order - her mum - and for the Ministry - her dad. They had chivvied her brother and Ginny onto the train as fast as possible.

Ginny knew they were doing important work, as were Harry and Hermione, but it was still sad. She missed the old days. The family would all be there, gathered around as they came to the station. After countless rounds of hugs, they'd get on the train and gather into one big compartment, laughing and enjoying their trip to Hogwarts. The whole year would loom with excitement, promise of many antics and learning. This year, though, was completely different.

The twins aside, she had lost basically everyone else she had been growing up with in some way. Sure, she'd still have her House, and dorm mates who'd been friendly enough. How friendly would people be with all the suspicion and worry going around the school? How could she face the relentless questions alone? Ron would be around, but as a Prefect, he'd be busy. He wanted to play Quidditch this year, too, he'd said. She'd hardly ever see him, then. She was alone.

"Well, well," said, a voice. "Look what we've found."

Ginny looked up, finding a smirking Draco Malfoy and his two goons framed beside him in the hall. She frowned, and looked back down. Maybe if she ignored him, they'd go away.

"No Potter or brothers to hide behind, this year," Draco said, laughing. "How's it feel to be abandoned? Eh? You may not be a filthy Mudblood, but you Blood Traitors deserve little better. What do we do to Blood Traitors, eh boys?"

The muscly trolls on either side of him cracked their knuckles, snickering maliciously. Ginny felt a sinking inside. So, that was how it would be. Not only was she alone, the company she _did_ have would be bullies coming after her because she was alone. A part of Ginny wanted to respond with something snarky, the part of her that had watched the twins with admiration, enjoying how they never took a negative word against them. That voice was small, though, small and far away, today.

"I guess she's already given up," Draco laughed. "Her kind need to learn when they're beaten… Ah."

His voice trailed off with a strange sound, and Ginny looked up just as he fell, stiff as a board to the ground outside the compartment, shock filling his eyes. With another couple snaps and flashes of light, his companions fell to the ground, one with legs kicking - out of control - and the other covered in a bunch of tentacles, crying out. Ginny just stared. Who?

"I knew those three would be up to no good," Neville said, sticking his head in. "You alright there, Ginny?"

"I'm… I'm okay," she replied, still staring in surprise.

"Mind if we join you?" asked another voice from around the corner.

"Y-yeah, I mean, no," she said. "C-come in."

Luna followed Neville in, shutting the door without a glance at the pile of Slytherins just without. Luna smiled at Ginny, looking at her curiously.

"Is your family not with you?" Luna asked, stumbling as the train lurched into motion. She caught herself on the bench.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked, jumping forward to help Luna.

"I'm fine," Luna replied, smiling, taking Ginny's hand, nevertheless, to stand up again.

"Don't worry about that lot," Neville said, pointing his thumb at the door while he lifted his and Luna's trunks into the compartment rack. "They won't bother you again today."

"I - thank you," Ginny said. "I just didn't expect anyone to…"

"To sit with you?" Luna asked, popping next to Ginny on the bench. "Because you're friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?"

"Yeah," Ginny admitted. "After everything that has happened, I dunno."

"I can't believe the Ministry is blatantly calling them fugitives," Neville said, shaking his head as he took a seat. "Whatever You-Know-Who is up to, it's not subtle."

"You don't mind?" Ginny asked. "Hanging around me could draw attention from them." She gestured to the pile in the hall.

Neville shrugged, frowning. "People like them are why Harry and Hermione aren't able to come to the school," he said. "Why make it easy to isolate anyone?"

"Besides," Luna said, "with Harry out of school, who will run the DA?"

"Will there even be a DA?" Ginny asked. "Who'd want to be a part of it, now?"

"More than you think," Neville said, smiling in a knowing way. "I talked to Dean in the hall. He's already asking about it."

"So, you'll run it, Neville?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," Neville said. "I'm sure someone would be better suited. But… I want to be in it. That's for sure."

"You must have learned a lot from Fred and George," Luna said to Ginny. "Maybe you should run it?"

"Me?" Ginny said, laughing for the first time, she thought, in ages. "No way. I mean I-"

"Have had to deal with more dark wizard business than most of us," Neville said.

Ginny blushed. "Not in a good way," she muttered.

"Who has good business with dark wizards?" Luna asked, her tone light.

"Besides," Neville said, "you can probably communicate with _them_ , right?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Owls probably wouldn't get through and the Communication spell is watched, now."

"Your family might even know where they are," Neville said. "I'm sure someone can get them a message."

"The Minister probably knows," Luna said, her voice far-away. "As part of the Rot-fang conspiracy, they have traced everyone's incisors."

Ginny nearly laughed, but stifled it. Luna did believe some odd things, but she didn't care about that. The pair of them had completely turned her day around. How had she thought they would all turn their backs on her? A wave of shame rushed through Ginny. What was she doing? Giving up before the year even started? That wasn't what a Weasley did. That wasn't Ginny, either.

Setting her jaw, Ginny sat up straighter. "I heard they've made Professor Snape the Headmaster," she said.

Neville frowned. "Maybe we w-won't see him as much, then," he said, sounding uneasy.

"I bet they'll replace him, Moody and Dubois with more of their people," Ginny said. "So, we'll need to look out for other students. If they're anything like You-Know-Who, then they might torment the students for fun."

"But what could we do about it?" Neville asked, shaking his head. "We can't override teachers. Other than getting messages out, there's not much we could do to stop them."

"We protect them," Ginny said. "If we have to, using magic. Harry and Hermione aren't the only ones who are resisting You-Know-Who. Just because we're in school doesn't mean we're useless."

"We'll need to be careful," Neville said. "Have back up plans. What if they come after us? Try to arrest us?"

"You could use the Room of Requirement," Luna said, her voice floaty.

Ginny stared at the girl. Luna was in Ginny's year, but sometimes she said something so simple and wise, Ginny thought she was older. Luna, for her part, hadn't even opened her copy of the Quibbler. Usually, she would spend most of the train ride buried in it.

"Brilliant," Neville said. "We find some way to make the Room a safe place."

"We'll have to make it ours," Ginny said. "I heard that You-Know-Who got in there during the Third Task. So, we'll need to make it so he and his group can't."

"I'll do it," Neville said. "Maybe I can try keeping one of you out, and see if that works."

"Excellent," Ginny replied. "We can use that to connect students, too. We can have DA meetings in the Great Hall, but that will just be for show. The real meetings will be there."

"But no one gets involved unless they want to," Neville said. "They have to want to take the risk. So, I don't think we should take anyone under year four. Harry was year four when he competed in the Tournament."

"He was year one when he fought Quirrell," Ginny pointed out.

Neville waved his hand. "I'm not putting first years in danger," he said. "Harry wouldn't want that, either. If they want to learn defence, they can come to DA."

Knock. Knock. The three of them looked over to the door, eyes filled with worry. Ginny sighed, laughing. A lady stood, looking into the compartment with a kindly expression, her left hand still on the handle of the sweets trolley.

"It's just the trolley," she said. "Anything?"

"Gran gave me a couple galleons for the trolley," Neville said, hopping up to buy some sweets.

The three of them snacked on the sweets in silence for some time. The interruption had brought Ginny out of the euphoria of the moment. They were talking about rebelling against the people running the school, the Ministry. It would be dangerous. People could be hurt or imprisoned. This wasn't a game. The silence surrounding the others made Ginny feel that they were aware of the same. Would they still want to proceed?

Ginny held the last bit of her Cauldron Cake, hesitating with it in the air. Was it even the right thing to cause trouble at the school? Would it send the Death Eaters after her parents, her brothers? A frown came over her face that she couldn't shake. Hermione had sent her family far away. Harry didn't have any. Sure, they could risk themselves and only themselves… But she? She had many loved ones. The risk was high.

"My dad said that they're not letting any Muggleborns come to Hogwarts this year," Luna said, sounding sad.

"Many have had to go into hiding," Neville said. "According to my gran, anyway. Apparently, Dumbledore's helping them."

"It's so terrible," Luna said. "Being kept out for being who you are. Right, Ginny?"

Ginny bit her cheek. Idiot. Worried about your family when others are already running for their lives? Your parents are already fighting _Him._ So are your brothers. They were already doing their part.

She nodded. "All of the students should be here, with us," she said. "It's not right. We'll stop _them,_ You-Know-Who and all of his followers. All of us, not just the adults out there. The adults need our help."

"Too right," Neville said, his smile broadening.

Click. Ginny turned, smile still on her face when she saw a dark hooded figure filling the doorway. Whomever it was stood tall, nearly brushing the ceiling with the hood. The figure made no move, just observing them, quietly and looming.

"Yes?" Neville asked, nervously stepping forward between the figure and the two girls. "Did you need something?"

"Ginevra Weasley," a thick, foreign voice intoned, "you are a known associate of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. You will tell me their whereabouts, immediately."

"Go away," Neville said, stepping forward with more bravery than Ginny had thought he had. "They're not on the train."

"You will stay out of my way," the figure said, addressing Neville with a growl in his voice. "I'm only here for her. You're disposable."

Ginny stepped forward before Neville could draw his wand. She put a hand on his arm to stay the movement, and looked directly at the figure.

"Let me guess," she said, sarcasm thick in her voice, feeling more angry than she had thought she would be, "you already tried to pester Ron and other people who knew them all the way down the train, and… you got nothing. We're near the back of the train and have been traveling for a while. If you were any good at what you do, you'd be done, am I right? Looks like your 'dark lord' is digging at the bottom of the barrel for his minions this week."

"How dare you!" cried the man, sounding furious. "If you think I'll go easy on you because you're a little girl…"

Ginny's wand was in her hand before she realised it, saying, " _Vespertilio pituita nasam_."

With a flash of light, the man cried out, falling back against the compartment door behind, his face covered by bats that had emerged from his nostrils. Ginny flicked her wand, saying, " _Colloportus_."

"You're a bit scary sometimes, Gin," Neville said from beside her.

The man was banging around outside the door, waving his wand at his face and cursing angrily. Ginny sneared at the man. "He's the man who's been trying to scare my brothers," she said. "That one was for them."

"What if he comes back?" Neville asked.

"Most people don't know how to remove that jinx," she said, smiling. "He'll probably have to go to St. Mungo's for one of the Healers to deal with it."

"And then?" Neville asked.

"Then, you can't Apparate onto the train," she said. "He'll have to try to meet the train at Hogsmeade, with Hagrid there, or bother us at the school with the other professors."

"He did look a bit silly, didn't he?" Luna said. "Running around with a bat on his face."

"Yes," Ginny said, smiling. "Yes, he did."

Neville laughed. "I guess we're doing it, then," he said. "If that doesn't send a message, I don't know what would."

"Of course, we are," Ginny said. "People like him are the reason people are scared. And Riddle. I spent too long trying to take care of myself with all that. Now, we can do something, can't we?"

"Yeah," Neville said. "Together. That's what Harry would tell us, anyway. He was always talking about how we can do more together, wasn't he? Always trying to get us to get along and work as a whole, for the whole school, not just Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw. Not even just everyone except Slytherin. Harry saw the school differently than all of us."

"He still does," Ginny said. "He's not gone, just not at Hogwarts this year."

"Have you really seen him?" Neville asked, his voice low.

Ginny nodded, whispering. "Harry came back," she said. "They're going to take down the barrier and then stop You-Know-Who."

"Did he say where he'd gone?" Neville asked, looking at Ginny with curiosity.

"Paris," Ginny said. "That's what I heard. I don't know why, but he must have had a good reason."

"Maybe he was looking for a weapon to defeat You-Know-Who," Luna said. "My dad says the Paris catacombs have artefacts that could level a city."

"Or…" Neville said, "he was recruiting the Beauxbatons to help in the fight."

Ginny shrugged. She had only heard bits and pieces of what Harry and her dad had said to each other. Maybe it was a weapon! They could take everything they could get. Who knew how strong the enemy was. This man had been a pest, but some of the enemy were really strong. The inner circle had powers she couldn't even imagine, much less You-Know-Who.

Silence fell and Ginny watched the countryside pass by. They would have time to plan strategy later. For now, the school was fast approaching. It was an ominous return, but a better one than she had originally thought. Ginny wouldn't be alone, not really. She had friends, friends looking to help. They would rebuild the DA, make a secret organisation to protect students. Somehow, they would help in the fight against the enemy. They would do everything they could.


	22. Chapter 22: Different Barriers

Harry set his quill down, sighing. He rubbed his fingers on his temples, trying to soothe out a headache that had been growing. A sharp pang struck, not from the sides, but from the middle of his forehead. He shook it off. It was natural that there would be some pain from that. Voldemort was active. Harry had been blocking him, well enough, but that didn't mean there was no connection. He couldn't deny that something in that scar must connect them.

In a way, though, it was a thing he was grateful for. Pain in the scar meant movement by Voldemort. It was a warning, at least, some - flimsy, perhaps - level of protection. Whatever his enemy was after, though, he felt secure where he was. They had done everything the Order could think of to protect their hiding place. It was Unplottable, shielded by various charms from detection, their Traces, too, for that matter. Harry didn't even know half of what they had done before they had had to flee here. Hermione might know a few more, but she hadn't created it alone. Originally, it had been a haven for emergency escapes out of the Order's headquarters. That much he understood, anyway.

Harry stood, looking around the dimly lit room. It was quiet. Hermione was reading, curled up on an armchair in the corner. Her eyes were intent on the tome in front of her, taking no notice of his movement. He observed her, saw her focus, the light wrinkle in her forehead as she concentrated and sought answers. Not that either of them had found any. The conundrum of the barrier was the same as when he had first heard of it. They had learned possibilities, but were no closer to understanding it as ferreting out who might have left that note for them.

Hermione turned a page, shifting her seating to put her left leg under her. Harry could hear the soft exhale of a sigh.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked. "I was thinking of making some."

"Yes," she said, absently. "That would be… yes, thank you, Harry." She looked up as what he had said finally clicked. "That would be lovely."

He nodded, giving her a grin as he stepped away from his desk. The rest of the hideaway was as quiet as the study, but darker, emptier. The twins, of course, visited, but they had their work to keep them occupied. All of the students who had helped Hermione at her old hiding place had had to go back to Hogwarts. The Order had been all but silent since the attack in their race back to this place. The bit of news they had gotten was worried, rushed and very chaotic. It did not seem to be going well, at all.

Harry filled the kettle, tapping it with his new wand. He always thought of it as his new wand, but every day was a little longer since he had had his original. A part of him wanted to storm the Clock Tower to knock out the barrier each day. The part of him that wanted the old wand, wanted things to be the way it had been. However, the unknown danger was too great. He could be putting the Order and, most importantly, Hermione at risk for a stick of wood. It meant something to him, but not as much as any person. When they took it down, they would need to do it correctly. No mistakes.

The kettle whistled before Harry realised he hadn't put out cups and saucers. They probably needed tea, too, to have… tea. Hurrying about the kitchen, Harry gathered what he needed, and poured the boiling water into the cups. With a flick of his wand, he said, "Wingardium Leviosa," and levitated the pair of cups ahead of him. Another pang hit his forehead. Harry shook his head, forcing himself to push it back. This was Voldemort's mess. Whatever had him agitated was not something Harry needed to know. The evil man would be bothered by more than enough things. Harry didn't need to get alarmed every time he decided to torture a Death Eater or grow angry at a failure.

Harry was nearly to the door to the study when the pain in his scar exploded, and Harry could not stop the rush of feeling. He found himself laughing, cackling in a cold, stony voice.

"So, you have brought him, good, good," Voldemort said with Harry's lips. "Bring him to me and leave him."

Harry pushed back, but he could not send the thoughts, the words away. He didn't see anything. That had happened on previous occasions, but he could hear the ragged breathing of someone, and a grunt sound as something struck the ground. Voldemort's thoughts were like sparks of fire in Harry's mind, vibrant in a way Harry could not remember feeling before. This was not anger, fury, or cold hatred. This was… happy. It felt sickening, but Harry was like someone tied to a post nearby. He couldn't push it away, he couldn't escape whatever was happening.

"At last, I have you in my grasp," Voldemort breathed, his very breath a half-laugh. "You thought yourself clever, cleverer than I, perhaps? You had many try to protect you, it is true. More than I would like, but that can be amended, severely. You will tell me what I need to know. You will tell me everything. And… only when I am sure I have every last speck of knowledge you can give me, only then will I dispose of you. The sooner you give it up… the better for you… I am told I can be quite… forceful. Either way… I daresay, I shall enjoy this."

Harry continued to fight, but he felt less strength in it. Against his own best judgment, a part of him had grown truly curious. What was it? Who could Voldemort have caught? Was it one of the Order? If it was, he could warn them… Maybe he could? He wasn't sure anyone could get to someone Voldemort had captured, now, but if he knew secrets, at least the Order could react to that.

"No, please!" implored a wretched voice. Harry did not recognise it. "I can help you. The Scions are in shambles. We can serve you. I know many would follow if you let me reach out."

"You think your words will convince me?" Voldemort said.

"Use your Legilimency," the man said. "I open myself to it. What I say is true. You found me because I wanted to find you. I wanted to join you. It is the honest truth."

"Perhaps…" Voldemort said, sounding distrustful.

Harry felt a fluctuation in the joy. It was gaining a tint of that anger Harry had felt often before. Was the prospect that he wouldn't have to kill this man enough to make him angry? Harry felt dirty feeling this. Being closely connected to Voldemort was like diving into a muddy pond. No matter how much you washed, some of his filth fought to cling to you.

Then, a flash of words, thoughts, images flew through Harry's head. The speed was blistering and impossible to understand. Was this what Legilimency was like? There were faces, familiar and not - at least Harry thought some were familiar -, and various places. A book was there, the book! It must be. Harry had seen the Scions with Riddle's diary. That appeared many times. One moment slowed more than the others, for some reason. Maybe Voldemort wanted to focus on it.

"Open up you, Lord," said a very familiar voice. Harry could not place it. "You must open. We need your wisdom."

"Has anyone talked to him?" a woman asked, sounding frightened.

"Not in weeks," the first voice said. "I've tried every spell I can think of, but it is shut fast. It's like he's abandoning us."

"Our Lord would never do that," the woman said, sounding for the world like she was trying to convince herself of that statement.

"I think he has," the man said. "What are the Scions without him?" he asked after a moment.

"Don't talk like that," she said. "Where would we go if we gave it up?"

"I'll raise it with the council," he said, sounding determined. "We need to reach out to You-Know-Who. They are connected, the book and he are two parts of the same whole."

"No!" she shouted. "Not Him."

"We must," he said. "Our part in this is done."

Suddenly, Harry was ripped out of the mind and out of Voldemort's head. As he was pulled away, he had a flash of a face, one he had seen once and who's presence reminded him of the voices. He knew who it was Voldemort had found. A flash of light filled his eyes and Harry blinked, uncertain. There was a light above him, obscured by a dark object. He could feel most of his body flat on the ground. His back and shoulders, however, were elevated, pressed into an uneven shape that supported him and dug into his shoulder blade.

"Harry?" came a cry of half relief, half fear. Hermione.

"Hermione?" he asked. "I-"

"You're alright!" she cried, and that dark shape coalesced into her face and bushy hair. She pulled him into an awkward hug, mostly leaning down to pull his head and neck into her arms.

"I- yeah," he said. "How long?"

"About ten minutes," she whispered from up close. "I heard the tea cups shatter…"

"Sorry," he said. "You-Know-Who… I couldn't stop it."

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, leaning back to look him over. "I thought that had stopped."

"So did I," he said. "It was just too overwhelming. I don't know if he knew I could hear it, though. He was … overjoyed, suddenly."

"That can't be good," she said, manoeuvring around him to stand up. "Do you feel alright to stand? I wasn't sure if I should levitate you to the sofa. I didn't know what was happening?"

"Yes, I think so," he said, accepting her hand up.

She led him to the sofa, setting him down and sitting right beside him. He could see the worry in her eyes. She would worry until he told her everything. So, he described what he experienced.

"Barty Crouch Jr.?" she asked.

"That's the face I saw," he said, "just as I came back to you. And, thinking about it, I think that was the man You-Know-Who had. The voice was strained, but I think it must have been. We know he was with the Scions, so it makes sense. If he wasn't lying, then the Scions are finished."

"But he may have been lying," Hermione said. "And even so, all the Scions working for You-Know-Who is hardly better."

"That's true," he answered. "If You-Know-Who accepted them. He seemed rather annoyed that he might not need to kill the man. That doesn't mean he wouldn't later, I mean. You-Know-Who isn't the kindest to his servants."

"That's enough of that for now," Hermione said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," Harry assured her, putting his hand on her arm. "Just a bit surprised, honestly."

"Have you been practicing your Occlumency?" she asked, worried.

"I have," he said, looking at her directly. "Every night. This wasn't even when I was tired. It's the middle of the day."

"You were tired," she said, frowning. "You always are. You're working too hard."

"No more than you," he said, smiling at her slightly.

"Well, I'm not going to keel over when You-Know-Who invades my mind, am I?" she asked, giving him one raised eyebrow.

"The connection must be weaker, though," Harry said, nodding to himself. "I couldn't actually see what You-Know-Who saw. I could only hear him, and a bit more distantly than usual."

"You saw the images," she said.

"But that was all in his mind," Harry said. "The connection isn't as strong as it was, so Occlumency must be working."

"Not enough," Hermione replied, looking worried. "If you can experience that, what is to stop him from seeing us talking?"

"Maybe he wasn't deliberately blocking me," Harry said, "at that moment. He may have lowered his guard because of his excitement. When I came back, he must have raised it. He was finishing his Legilimency, so maybe he raised his guard then to make sure Crouch didn't try to see into His mind."

"That would be foolish," Hermione said. "Letting himself be captured is risky enough. Trying to read You-Know-Who's mind…"

"You-Know-Who is paranoid," Harry replied. "Whether the man would do it or not, You-Know-Who is wary."

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Hermione asked, her tone serious. "You need to be able to completely prevent that connection. If this happened because You-Know-Who lowered his guard, nothing is keeping him from trying to come the other way, is it? You weren't actively trying to see His thoughts, were you?"

The last question came out of her mouth with the thinnest of breaths. It was like she was pushing him to admit he had wanted to know Voldemort's thoughts. He hadn't, of course, but Hermione was very worried.

"I didn't," he replied, quickly. "And I don't."

Hermione gave him a questioning look.

"I admit, it may have seemed helpful before," Harry said, quickly going on. "But it's never straightforward, and really not helpful when you look back at it. He's tricky and he lies. You-Know-Who would like nothing more than to draw me out, Hermione. I know that. If he could do it by letting me see something, then he'd succeed. This whole thing could have been a fabrication, so it's not something I would seek out."

"Even if we're not advancing with our research?" she asked, squeezing her hand.

"We haven't made the best progress," Harry admitted. "But I couldn't expect You-Know-Who to sit around thinking about how the barrier works, could I? We'd have better luck standing by the barrier and asking it."

Hermione looked at him, uncertain.

"Hermione," he said, pleading, "I swear, I do not want to hear or see what he's doing. Honest. If I could shut it away and lock away the key, I would do it. This is a wooly area of magic. Legilimency, Occlumency and whatever it is this link is… I will do whatever I can to keep the door closed, but I don't know why it opened today."

"Okay," Hermione said, pulling him into a hug. "I just worry, Harry."

"I know," he said. "Thank you. And… sorry about the tea."

Hermione laughed, a small laugh. "Nothing that can't be fixed," she said. "Now, it's about lunchtime. Want to come help me make something, if you're up for it?"

"Sure," he said into her shoulder.

"Good," Hermione said, pulling out of the hug. "You can start by fixing the tea cups and cleaning up the spill. I'll go see what the house elves left us."

Hermione rose, giving him one more assessing look with a furrowed brow, and then departed for the kitchen. Harry sighed, rising. He still felt a touch unsteady, as though he had woken from a very uncomfortable sleep. He wouldn't let her see that, though. She was worried enough. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the shattered tea cups on the floor.

"Reparo," he intoned, watching them reassemble neatly on the ground. He pointed at the water across the floor and said, "Tergeo." The water was drawn off the floor, seemingly drawn into the wand. It wasn't but that was how the spell always appeared.

Harry couldn't help thinking about the Scions. Something had happened to their book, Riddle's Diary. Was that a good thing? Maybe it broke. Some things weren't as easy to fix as a tea cup. That would be for the best, in his opinion. It could be a lie, of course, but he hoped it wasn't. Of all the things he had experienced, that was the best possibility. Disheartening the Scions might drive some of them to Voldemort. It might also take some of them out of the fight entirely. That would only be good for everyone. If it was true.

Waving his wand, Harry said, "Wingardium Leviosa," and walked back towards the kitchen. His steps echoed in the quiet room. As he stepped into the kitchen, Harry made his mind focus on being empty. It was calming and reassuring. You-Know-Who couldn't get in. He wouldn't let him.


	23. Chapter 23: Unexpected End

"Harry, are you sure?" Hermione asked, looking at him, concerned.

"It's the only way," he said, looking around at them. "What do you think?"

"Mate, it's absolutely bonkers," Fred replied.

"Mad, just mad," George added, shaking his head.

The pair eyed each other in a knowing way. Harry nearly laughed just seeing that look come over their faces. Those two…

"We love it!" they said, together.

"Really?" Harry asked. "You don't think it's …"

"Reckless?" Fred asked.

"Dangerous?" George asked.

"Overly complicated plan that is likely to wind us all up in prison?" Fred and George asked together.

"Or eaten by some unimaginable horror from beyond," Fred said, nodding to his brother.

"Well, yeah…" Harry said, looking at them, seriously. "Excluding the horror from beyond bit."

"Mate, these are mad times," Fred said.

"Sometimes a likewise mad solution is the way to go," George added, nodding.

"Is anyone going to point out that Harry is taking entirely too much of this plan on himself?" Hermione asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm the only one who has interacted with the barrier," Harry said.

"And that's about as useful as someone who has stepped on a rock saying he's got experience with mountains," Hermione admonished. "We're all on equal ground here. It's a mystery to all of us. So, you need at least someone else in there. You're brilliant, Harry, but you can't assume you can do it alone."

"I just want to minimise the risk," Harry said. "If all four of us are in there…"

"You won't have all four of us there," she said, nodding to herself. "Just me. We still the distraction, yes?"

"So, you're okay with the plan?" he asked, looking at her, hopeful.

"It may work," she mused. "There's just a lot of uncertainty…"

"There's bound to be," Fred said. "Look. We don't know anything about what's in that building."

"Or where," George added.

"Or what kind of magic is in play," Fred said.

"Or if there are guards," George added.

"Or magic protections…" Fred finally said.

"Or fifteen dragons tap-dancing and singing," George shouted.

"But we won't know until we get in there," they said together, sounding for the world like all of these options were equally awesome.

"What about the Order?" Hermione asked.

"They're too busy chasing their tails over this travel restriction," Fred said.

"Dumbledore hasn't authorised any new missions," George added. "We'd be sitting around for months."

"I don't mean officially," Hermione said. "Should we get a couple more Order members to help?"

"We're not good enough for you?" Fred asked, sounding insulted.

"You try to raise them, train them to trust you in all sorts of shenanigans," George said.

"And this is the thanks we get," Fred said, fake-sniffling.

"Might I remind you," Hermione said, "that this is likely a trap. If you want to out-trap the trapper, you can't go in unprepared."

Before Fred and George could reply, Harry spoke up. "I think that's a good idea," he said. "We cannot be the only ones who want to take that barrier down. It would free up all kinds of travel. Anyone being hunted by the Ministry right now just has to sit around and wait for the Ministry to find them or risk being caught in the open. At least this would give people exit routes. I think a few more Order members would be helpful. Can you two reach out?"

"And let you two monopolise the planning?" Fred asked.

"Not a chance," George said. "I think it needs three, four times as many fireworks and people being swallowed by green goop."

"If not more," Fred replied, nodding to his brother. "You can never have too much of that."

"We need to go scout out the site," Harry said.

"Oh, I get it," Fred said, winking repeatedly at his brother. "Reconnaisance. Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Say no more!" George cried, winking both of his eyes back and forth in a strangely arhythmic pattern. "Harry, you sly dog!"

Fred smacked him on the back, and then the pair practically sprinted for the door, stumbling over each other to go through the portal, cackling all the way. Harry laughed, watching them. Hermione chuckled, too, shaking her head.

"What else did we expect?" Hermione said, after a moment, still laughing.

Harry laughed, as well. He couldn't help it. The twins were all kinds of ridiculous when they wanted to be. It did help crack the tension. What they were talking about was quite serious, in truth.

"Are you sure you're okay with the idea?" Harry asked, giving her another look.

"It's a pretty good plan," she said, putting her right hand on his. "I just don't want to see you taking too much of the risk on your own. We're all in this together."

She squeezed his hand at the last word, and he smiled at her, happy to watch the worry on her forehead dissipate.

"Thank you," he said. "Now, necklaces to get there?"

"Yes," she said. "Hopefully no one will be the wiser, this time. I don't know how the twins seem to get around without any trouble."

"I just assume they make enough trouble for everyone else that it doesn't affect them," Harry said.

"I can't believe we ran into Pettigrew," Hermione said. "Of all the Ministry hunters…"

"They knew he'd recognise us pretty well," Harry replied, picking up the pair of necklaces from the office table and stowing his wand.

"Yeah, but he was so close to us," she said, shuddering as she took the second necklace from him.

Harry nodded. "I just hope these things work properly," he said. "A lot depends on it."

"They must," she replied. "Dumbledore wouldn't give out fakes. He could tell."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry replied, looking at his gem before looping the necklace over his head. "They must…"

They stepped out into the tunnel, working their way carefully forward. With no wand light, the walk was much more treacherous than otherwise. Harry had had to pass this way without magic a few times, however, so he was more accustomed to avoiding the broken ground and jutting metal from some forgotten works of long ago. He still had not figured out what this tunnel was meant to be used for. It was empty, dry, and nowhere near large enough for the Underground. Maybe it had been a maintenance tunnel for some Muggle buildings? They might even be buildings that did not exist any more, or were in disuse, like the warehouse they usually entered and exited through.

In short order, they came to the ladder into the warehouse, and Harry began to climb. He reached his hand up after every couple rungs to check for the cap, and was relieved when his fingers finally touched that old, rusted metal. With a push, he started to open it, freezing when he heard something unexpected.

"Why are we stationed here?" asked one grunting voice. "Ain't nothin' here, is there?"

"Orders are orders, Max," said another voice, deeper and calmer. "Those rats are coming out this way somehow. If we catch them at it, we can follow'em back to the rats nest and get the lot."

"That sounds a bit dangerous," the other groaned. "I joined up for guard duty at the Ministry, not some hunt and find mission. Ain't that what the Aurors are about?"

"Aurors're stretched thin, in'n't they?" the second man said. "S'not for us to ask, eh? We sit, we wait, we get paid. We see'em, we call in the cavalry. Orders. No takin'em ourselves, right?"

"Right," the first said, agreeing. "We don't do nothin' without the others."

Harry gently lowered the cap, shutting it with as little sound as he could manage. He paused after he had done so, waiting. In the near darkness, he looked down, and could see Hermione's shape below, looking up the ladder at him, curiously. He descended quickly and quietly, taking her arm and walking away.

"That way is being watched," he whispered. "We need to find another way out."

"How did they find the warehouse?" Hermione asked. "This isn't good."

"There must be another way out," Harry said, walking on until they came to the first crossing point.

He looked left and right, but could see nothing more in the darkness than before. Harry had been so accustomed to the known path, he had forgotten how complex the tunnels could be. For all he knew, they stretched for ages in every direction. That was the best scenario. If there were few exits, they could be more easily covered. They could be trapped down here, utterly.

"Which way out do the twins go?" he asked.

"I think they Apparate away from a few tunnels down," Hermione said. "Apparition is marked, but if they go to a crowded area, the Ministry won't know who did it. And I know what you're thinking. We can't do that. They'd mark the Apparition but taking off the gems would give them the position we Apparated from. The tunnels would be swarming with Death Eaters in hours."

"If they aren't already," Harry said, shuddering at the image of Voldemort's followers hunting for them, possibly around any corner at any time. "Do you know any other close exits?"

"I know a couple," Hermione said, scrunching her forehead. "We always considered one exit becoming inaccessible. That's why we chose this for our back-up. It has a number of ways to get out. I just hope we can still get back in."

"Then, let's go to one of those," Harry said. After a moment, he asked, "Wands out, just in case?"

Hermione drew hers, as well, but neither removed their necklaces. If it came to it, they would, but for now, just having his wand in hand felt a little more comforting. She led the way, and Harry kept close beside her. They were both looking around carefully, and Harry could feel the tension growing as they went. A drop of water from a leaking pipe made him jump and a crashing noise that echoed, faintly, left him even more unnerved. That could have been anything from a rat knocking over a pail to a Death Eater smashing something out of his way.

Eventually, Hermione took Harry through a doorway that opened into a short pipe that dropped off a few feet ahead. Not deterred by this natural barrier, Hermione pushed on one side of the pipe on the left, revealing a second, hidden door that opened onto a random Muggle street. As the pair climbed down, a few Muggles did pass by, but none glanced in their direction. One was buried in a newspaper and the other pair were chatting and giggling together. Hermione shoved the door closed.

"Now, the Tower is a bit further out than I had planned," Hermione said. "But its about thirty or more minutes walk from here."

"Lead the way," Harry said. "I've never seen that part of Muggle London."

"We really need to take you on more Muggle holidays, Harry," Hermione said, taking his hand and leading him forward. "When all of this is over, I mean. You need a crash course in Muggle landmarks, for starters."

"Sounds nice," Harry said, his smile not quite full. In his head, he was wondering when that might be possible, if ever.

"Don't look like that," Hermione said. "We'll stop this and then you can go wherever you want. With Him gone, you'll be safe to travel, see the world, properly. Not running for your life through the garden of the Louvre at night."

"You said you only thought that was that Louvre place," Harry said. "I couldn't be too sure. It was dark."

They walked along, chatting about all the places Hermione thought Harry needed to visit. It did sound wonderful. He'd spent more than his share of time at Hogwarts. It was… had been his home. Would it ever be again? Harry shook those thoughts away. Not having parents around had deprived Harry of that adventure, the family trips he had long heard so much about from other students. He had been out, but mostly to visit homes of friends and so on. The most exotic trip (excluding the unexpected journey to Gibraltar) had been a visit to the World Cup. That had certainly not lived up to the sort of excitement he had expected.

It did feel a little strange, roaming the streets of London like they were, in fact, free. With the necklaces on, it was very unlikely that anyone would notice them. The chances of running into a wizard hunting them amidst the crowds were astronomically low. The gem on his chest was the only reminder he had that this was not a safe or casual walk. They had to investigate the site. Whatever they could work out would help them later. It might be a day, a week, but soon they would enter that tower and go after the barrier or whatever created the barrier.

After some time, wrapped up in conversation and the constant flow of city sounds, Harry had felt more relaxed than at any time he could recently remember. It had been weeks since he had stretched his legs this long outside, and with a lovely, early autumn day, a walk with Hermione was a breath of fresh air, in more ways than one. They turned a corner.

A loud explosion rocked the street, sending Harry tumbling to the ground. His hearing had gone for a moment, blocked out by whatever had caused the concussive blast. He couldn't feel anything, properly. Holding his hands in front of him felt like an out-of-body experience. Everything moved slowly, and even pain was a distant, minor thing. Then, his hearing came back, and the world was full of sirens, screams, and the sounds of people running. He also heard his name.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione was crying, shaking his arm. "Harry, are you okay?"

He looked around at her, shaking his head. "I- I'm fine, I think," he managed. His voice sounded strange to his own ear, but the sound was beginning to feel louder. "Wh-what happened?"

"I don't know," she said. "Can you get up? I don't think we should sit here. That was a magical explosion."

Harry managed to rise with her help. He looked at Hermione. Other than the fear and anxiety in her face, she looked perfectly. Fine.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his feet steadying him from the initial rocking.

"Yes," she said. "I was still around the corner. You… you and the corner blocked me from most of it."

"Thank goodness," he said. "If you had been hurt…"

"You have been hurt," she said, looking him over. "We need to get you to help."

An engine nearby roared, drawing both of their attentions. A van skidded to a stop nearly on top of them, and out hopped a Muggle in a suit, followed by one with a large contraption over his shoulder. A couple others raced out to set up a few things as the suited Muggle took a position in the street. All of this passed in moments.

"This is special correspondent, Aaron David," the man said, "live at the scene. We have a report from just moments ago of an explosion that rocked the very core of democracy here in London. Initial reports say that London's most famous tower, Big Ben, has experienced an act of terrorism unseen since the '92 bombings by the IRA. We are still waiting to confirm their involvement and it has been some time since they have made such a vocal statement in British politics…"

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said, tugging him away from the street. "We have to go."

"But, the scouting…" Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm not that hurt. If we just go around this, we can…"

"Big Ben is the Clock Tower," Hermione said, tugging him onward. "And I swear that was magical. Someone has either tried to destroy what is creating the barrier already or wants to hide it. We can't find anything else out here, now. The Muggles will be swarming all over it."

"You, Miss!" cried the man who had been speaking. He ran over and shoved a Muggle device in front of Hermione. "You were here at the moment of the explosion, yes?"

"Ah, I - er," Hermione said, seeing the other man point his shoulder-mounted device at her. She turned her head down, looking like she was facing something very interesting on the ground. "I was around the corner. Sorry, didn't see anything… I have to go."

She grabbed Harry's arm and tugged him away, practically sprinting. They kept on for some blocks, and Harry could barely keep a grip. His sense of balance was not as good as he had thought. Part of him wanted to stop and lie down, maybe even sleep. Hermione did not stop, though, not for some time. Her eyes were fierce and determined, and when she looked back it was with a look of concern, worry.

When they had stopped, Harry sat on the ground, feeling a thud in his head as the impact of sitting ran through him. He put a hand to his temple, but had it moved gently by Hermione as she looked him over.

"I'm sorry we ran," Hermione said. "After we were on camera… I don't know how long it would be before one of them saw it…"

"Saw what?" Harry asked. "Camera?"

"They were a news crew, Harry," Hermione said. "I might be plastered across all of the televisions in Britain. I hope they cut it because I was too brief."

"That was going on television?" Harry asked. "The one you showed me at your home?"

"Yes," Hermione said, sounding somewhat impatient. "Look. We can talk about it later, but we can't wait. If the Death Eaters have anyone watching Muggle news, they will have seen at least my face, maybe yours. Can you stand again?"

"I think so," Harry said, staggering back to his feet.

"Lean on me," she said. "I think we can still make it back unseen if we move. All of the sirens are going towards that location. If anyone is going to look for us, they'd have to start there."

The pair limped back, reminding Harry heavily of the last time they had been chased back to their hiding place. They had been thwarted again. How could someone have gotten to it first? Was the magical device destroyed? Someone would have to test the barrier to find out. Who knew how long that would take.

They traveled without words, even though Harry had countless questions. Hermione looked increasingly tired, and he felt it, himself. Questions could wait. The easy blocks they had walked just moments before were an eternity to cross. Still, no one stopped to take notice. Everyone moving around was in a hurry. Harry felt happy for that, small miracle.

At last, Hermione led him into the tunnel and the short path back to their hiding place. With utmost relief, Harry took a seat on the sofa in the entry, breathing deeply. Hermione slumped down beside him, but did not rest. She took off both of their necklaces and checked him over for injuries, attempting to mend what she could with the basic Healing magic they had learned. Harry's head hurt, but less than before. It was like a dull headache compared to before.

Hermione still looked at him concerned, though. "I'm going to have to get someone to check this," she said. "But who?"

"If we were in Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey," Harry managed, giving her a smile. "Maybe we can see if Dumbledore has a Healer?"

"Maybe," Hermione said, looking doubtful. "Where are those twins…? I don't want to leave you alone."

"I will be fine," Harry said. "Just give me a few to…"

He coughed, and his head swayed. "I'll be fine, right as a house elf," Harry said, his words sounding a little weird to his own ears.

"Wait," Hermione exclaimed. "That's it! Vinken! Please come."

The house elf appeared in front of them.

"Miss Granger?" Vinken asked. "You have never called me here before."

"I'm sorry," she said. "We need your help. Harry has hit his head and I need to get Madam Pomfrey here to check him. Can you bring her with you?"

"Of course," Vinken said. "I'm a house elf."

"Thank you, Vinken," she said. "Please come back quickly."

"As you wish, Miss Granger," Vinken said.

He popped away in a blink. Harry felt his head sagging with tiredness, lethargy. He found himself watching Hermione, admiring her for her calm in all of this. So much had happened and she was just… wonderful. He tried to shake his head, but there was pain in it. He wasn't thinking clearly.

Pop. Harry felt new hands on his head, and could hear so words spoken, but all of it became a rather blur. After some time, his head was clearing, but he felt very tired. He heard one older woman's voice say, "He will be alright, Miss Granger. I've given him something to help him rest. Thank goodness you sent for me… the dreadful things you children are going through. Oh, my…" Then, he was in a dreamless sleep.


	24. Chapter 24: Intelligence

"One, please," Hermione said, holding out some Muggle coins.

The attendant passed her a ticket, took the coins, and returned another coin. "Next," the woman said even as Hermione stepped away.

She crossed to the turnstiles and descended the stair. A train was pulling up as she arrived, and she smiled at the perfect timing. With a quick step, she merged into the small crowd gathering near the nearest car. In moments, Hermione was onboard, holding onto a bar in the centre, and watching the platform whisk away as though it, not she, was moving. She knew that was not the case, of course. Muggle technology had its own air of magic to it, no matter what some wizards might think.

Before long, however, she was stepping off the mechanical marvel and into her destination station. She was buffeted by a pair of large men pushing their way through the exit, but managed to reach the street without much further effort. Glancing left and right, Hermione took the leftward path, and passed a few streets before taking a winding path that she had studiously memorised that morning. Some blocks had passed before she slowed, counting down the thin house fronts in many faded hues. Red, blue, green, blue, yellow, red again…

Hermione came to a halt in front of a grey coloured house that stuck out from the rest by the sheer lack of character, exactly as described. She sighed, looking around. No one in sight as far as she could make out. A dull house on a quiet street. This was where he was living? Shrugging to herself, Hermione stepped up to the door and knocked.

"Who's there?" growled a man.

"Hermione, Mr. Moody," she replied, smiling to herself. Some people never changed.

"Fool girl," he said, quickly unbolting and opening the door. "Get off the street. Are you daft?"

Before she knew it, Hermione had been dragged inside, and was facing Moody with a wand drawn. The old, grizzled man observed her with suspicion. He didn't say a word but ran his wand up and down at her, but what he was trying to detect she could not be sure.

"Dumbledore told us where we could find you," she replied to the unasked question. "He said to tell you, er, the heron races the hippogriff and loses, thrice."

"And the phoenix?" He growled in response.

"I, er, he didn't say anything about a phoenix," she said, confused.

"Good," Moody grunted. "He didn't say anything to me about them, either. Though, he might have told you not to be a complete fool. Coming here in daylight on your own."

"I'm wearing the anti-magic necklace," she said, pointing to it around her neck.

"A fancier and more expensive signal to say 'here I am', you could not find," Moody said, sniffing his nose at it.

"What?" Hermione asked. "They can't detect anti-magic fields. No one can with magic."

"And when they scan an area and find a giant hole that they cannot see, what then, missy?" Moody asked, tapping his nose. "Eh?"

"A sight better than my Trace giving me away," she rebutted.

He grunted in reply, then fixed both eyes on her. His second, magical, eye had been roving around looking for threats. With both of them directed at her, Hermione felt a twinge of unease. If any of that showed on her face, Moody gave no sign.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I want to know what is going on," she said.

"Wouldn't we all, lass?" he growled, his second eye darting away to the right.

"No, I mean it," Hermione said, cutting through his diversion. "Big Ben was damaged in a magical explosion, there are rumours of Wizarding duels on the Muggle streets, in broad daylight, the barrier is still up and the Order seems to be doing nothing but hiding. What is going on?"

Moody looked more disgruntled - if that were possible - than usual. He shook his head, but Hermione did not know what he meant by it. "Big Ben was _not_ us. Despite the cryptic letter, Dumbledore was not prepared to spring such an obvious trap. We were observing the site, nothing more, to see who came and went. The current theory is that the divide between the Death Eaters and Scions has broken out into open warfare. The more those two fight each other, not the Muggles and not us, the better, in my opinion. Leave 'em to it. The enemy of my enemy is not my ally, but he can kill my enemy just as easily."

"So, we're doing nothing?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't say that," Moody growled. "Dumbledore is reformulating the strategy. We are focusing on two fronts, Muggle protection and ferreting out the Scions. They're the rogue element in all of this. You-Know-Who has the most consistent strategy. We know his methods and his goals. The Scions are… reactive, dangerous and inconsistent. One day they're hiding, the next they fight on the streets. One day, it looks like they are making deals with the Death Eaters, the next they destroy a trap laid by the Death Eaters for the Order. It is almost-"

"Like they have two leaders," Hermione said.

"Perhaps," Moody replied, shrugging. "Or one who cannot make up his… or her mind."

"Why isn't Dumbledore simply letting all of us know the new strategy?" she asked. "It doesn't sound like it requires a lot of extra planning."

"Communication is more difficult," Moody said. "Most are actually obeying the directive to stay off of the streets, particularly in daylight. Not everyone has your death wish, lass."

Hermione flushed, irritated. "Some of us want to still fight, Moody," she said. "Not all of us have given up."

"No one is giving up," Moody replied, harshly. "A dead or captured soldier is less than useless to us, though. We have to risk others to find out what happened, and that slows us further."

"Then, how can we help?" she asked, looking up at the grizzled man.

"For now, wait," Moody grumbled. She moved and he waved her words away. "Patience. I have seen too many young Aurors think they can solve the problems of the Wizarding world in one go. I have seen too few of them come back. Do I make myself clear?"

Hermione frowned, but nodded under his gaze.

"Good," he replied. "Dumbledore will send word when all plans are ready. He said he would visit everyone to discuss. That will include you and…" Moody frown deepened. "Where is Harry? I do not encourage either of you to travel, but it is unlike him to let you go on your own."

Hermione allowed herself a slight smile. "He is resting under the deliberate care of Madam Pomfrey," she said. "She has threatened him with a month of bed rest if he is not there taking his ease when she visits."

"His injury as bad as all that?" Moody asked, sounding somewhat concerned.

"No," she said. "Pomfrey healed him the first day, but she can be a bit… serious about her patients having time to heal."

Moody laughed, a harsh sound that sounded more like a cough, but Hermione could seem the amusement in his remaining eye.

"Better than the best oath or bond," Moody said, "to keep you two put. Good woman. If there is nothing else, you had best go back, and mind what I said. The patient soldier waits and lives. Mind it."

Hermione lost her smile as he shuffled her out the door. He grumbled as he did, glowering at the anti-magic necklace and seemed happier to be shot of her and the necklace. Moody had always been a strange man. Still, he had told her some useful things, even if he hadn't meant to. She turned from the door after it closed and quickly made her way back to the station. Harry would be getting worried.

The street was as empty as she had seen it on the way in, almost unnaturally so. That could be part of what appealed to the ex-Auror in staying here. Quiet, nearly unnoticeable street. Who would look for someone like Moody there? It was as far from the bustling action of Central London as you could find without traveling far. Hermione understood the appeal. After all, her hideaway was far from people, too.

She had made a few turns, nearly back to the station, when she heard a sound that caused her to spin around. It had been like the crunch of grass and leaves beneath a heavy boot. She saw nothing, though, just the same empty street she had come down. Hermione's ears were piqued, however, when she turned back to the front. She fingered her wand in her pocket and the necklace around her neck with her right and left hands.

Ten steps further, she heard another sound, and she tried to eye the area behind her without fully turning her head. A loose window pane above her gave enough reflection in the dimming afternoon light that she could make out a pair of dark robed followers. Feeling her heart race, Hermione took a deep breath and kept her pace steady. If she gave them any sigh she had seen, she would lost the advantage. The corner was a couple steps away. Beyond that…

Hermione stepped around the corner, removing her necklace and pulling out her wand in one, smooth motion. A hedge lay just to the right, so she stepped behind it and waited. There was nothing for a moment, but a pair of careful figures peeked around the corner. Hermione could see them from her place, but the could not see her.

"Where did she go?" growled one voice. "She was just there. Did she Apparate?"

"Did you hear the sound?" the other asked more quietly, sounding irritable. "She must have heard you, oaf!"

"Well, how are we going to find her now?" the younger voice - Hermione thought - asked.

"I like trying bait," the older man said.

"Bait, but-?" the younger asked, as he was shoved bodily out of hiding across the lawn, landing in a tangle of his own robes.

Hermione almost felt bad for him, except he was allied with either the Scions or Death Eaters. She waited, though. An obvious trap was not worth falling in, no matter how pathetic the bait. In the meantime, he younger figure rose. He was dressed in black with his hood over his head to disguise his face.

Turning back to the corner, he said, "See? She is gone! No thanks to you. Just tossing me out here like that!"

He grumbled a bit incoherently, but Hermione's attention was fully on the other man, or what she could see of him at the corner. There wasn't much. He was being careful. A miss at this range would point them both at her location. The younger man was distracted enough to give her a good shot at him after taking care of the elder, but not the other way.

All Hermione could really see well were the man's eyes, glaring out, searching. Then, it clicked. Firming the grip on her wand, Hermione pointed it like throwing a dart, whispering the spell, " _Conjunctivitis_ ," and watching the spell speed directly into the older man's eyes. Even as he began to cry in pain, she sent her second spell at the younger man, saying, " _Petrifucs Totalum_." The boy crumpled immediately, and Hermione stepped around to send one last spell at the older man who was on the ground, wand tossed aside as he held his hand over his eyes. " _Incarcerous_ ," she uttered, thick ropes binding the man.

She crouched, uttering one more spell, " _Hominem Revelio_." She could sense no one else around.

Rushing over to the young man, she said, "Who are you working for?"

The boy stared at her in anger, irritation. He said nothing. In frustration, she threw back the young man's hood. He was maybe three to five years her senior, but she did not recognise him. He may not have been at Hogwarts or could be older than he looked.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Tell her nothing," the older man cried out, pained. "They will find her soon and she will be the one answering questions."

"Unlikely," Hermione said. "But thank you for confirming you are with the Death Eaters. Only they would be happy if the Ministry found me."

"Foolish girl," the old man laughed. "As if the Death Eaters alone own the Ministry. Even You-Know-Who knows better."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"Wait around a bit," he coughed, groaning. "You will see."

Hermione hesitated. She would love to carry them back to the Order to learn what they knew, but the man was right. To keep them she would have to keep off her necklace. The longer it was off, the faster the Ministry would find her. But if she took it off, her spells, too would fade. They would be back to chasing her in moments.

"Normally," she said, "I would not do anything to bound prisoners, but…"

The young man cowered and the older winced a fraction. She swept up her wand and the pair rose into the air. She swished it away as quickly, letting the spell send them floating serenely down the street she had just come from. When she was certain they had gone far enough, she tucked away her wand, put on her necklace and ran for the station with all of her strength.

She took a dozen trains as soon as she could manage, repeating some, she as fairly certain, taking the longest path back she could manage, and then wandered a meandering path through busy thoroughfares and empty alleys alike. When she descended into the tunnels again, Hermione was sure she had lost anyone who might have been following. She waited down the first tunnel for an age, though, just in case.

By the time she entered the hiding place, Hermione was exhausted. Who would think a simple excursion with anti-magic protection would transform into a chase across the city? She sat down, hard on her chair in the study, catching her breath.

"Hermione?" Harry asked from the kitchen. "You back?"

"Yes," she said. "Just a minute."

"Did Moody tell you anything?" he asked. "The house elves gave us pork steaks and vegetables. That sound good?"

"Be there in a minute," Hermione repeated.

She sighed, checking over her robes for any damage. There were a few marks from the grass, but no worse. He probably wouldn't notice, and it was better if he never heard about it. Harry had been against her going in the first place. She had taken time to get him to see they needed to know more. At least it wasn't a complete loss. She had learned a few things.

Setting her face calmly, Hermione rose to help Harry with dinner. She would share what she had learned, and they would discuss where to go from here. Waiting was only making the enemy more bold. They needed to do something.


	25. Chapter 25: Risk and Reward

Harry paced, his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the few steps ahead of him until he came to a wall. In the confined space, his loops were short, but he didn't pay it any mind. His thoughts were far beyond these four walls.

"Harry," Hermione said from across the room, "please, Moody said to be patient. He'll be reach out to us when he can, I am sure of it."

He didn't respond. It was the same conversation they had had on repeat for the past few hours. Every time he tried to sit down and study, research or do anything he had found himself standing again and thinking after very little time passed. Patience was not his ally today.

It wasn't as though he had nothing to get done. Even without marching orders from Dumbledore, the pair had come up with a number of plans, and those certainly needed more details and thinking. But, as fast as his mind was whirring, he could not focus on any of those particular ideas. Every third or fourth turn, his eyes would shoot a glare over at the rolled up newspaper on the tea table.

Harry did not need a refresher to remember the headline: _Harry Potter: Tower Terrorist?_ Rita was at it again, and her speculative piece rambled for a full three pages, hinting and insinuating as much. It was amazing how much she could imply without referring to anything but wild stories and guesses. Whoever was pulling the strings for the Prophet had lobbed Voldemort a fine gift. Even the smallest shreds of doubt could divide the Wizarding world just that little bit more. Harry didn't believe sullying his name would make a huge difference, but it could bother some people. Maybe he was being ridiculous.

"That woman," Hermione muttered to herself, noticing where he was looking. She shook her head. "Don't let her get to you, Harry. She's not worth your time. You know how she gets with everyone. Any chance she has to make a dig at someone, she does."

"Yeah," Harry said, sure of it, but it still bothered him.

Hermione went back to her reading, idly flipping pages, sometimes more than one at a time. Harry stood watching for a moment, but then his feet began pacing again, pulling him onward. There were too many problems and no solutions, so far. He felt like they had been spinning on a large wheel without going anywhere.

"Harry?" Hermione said after a silent moment.

"Yes?" he asked, not pausing his pacing.

"Why do you suppose they told us the barrier focus was at the Clock Tower?" she asked.

"I dunno," he said, shrugging as he walked. "Maybe they could trap people there easily."

"Hmm," Hermione muttered, not sounding convinced.

Harry stopped, looking over at her. "You think it's something else?" he asked.

"Maybe," Hermione replied. "I mean, it's a pretty big landmark. Loads of Muggles go see it. Wouldn't it be easier to trap someone in a more… secluded place?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "You've got a point. Maybe it was just attractive as it is high up. We'd be expecting something like that… a tower that could spread the magical signal around."

"Height shouldn't really matter, should it?" Hermione asked. "If it's a sufficiently powerful magical object, it could project the barrier anywhere. Well, nearby, anyway. I still don't know how it can reach that far."

"It could be the central point," Harry said, sure he was repeating himself, "and there are hubs out around the coast to push it further out."

Hermione nodded, absently. "But maybe then it is somewhere central…"

"It would make sense," Harry said. "But London is hardly the centre of -"

"Yes, but it _is_ where the Ministry is," Hermione replied. "With the travel restrictions, keeping it close would be important. It would be less conspicuous."

"Unless the travel restrictions are meant to help keep people from noticing other people travelling out to it," Harry countered.

"I think it would need to be a pretty busy Wizarding area," Hermione said. "You obscure an object best with a Transparency spell if you don't move it."

"So, what?" Harry suggested. "Diagon Alley? St. Mungo's? The Ministry itself?"

"Likely the Ministry," Hermione replied, looking over at him. "No one would look in plain sight. For all we know, there's an office dedicated to the magical object. With the many levels in the Ministry and workers restricted to their departments, you could hide it amongst a small group without most of the Ministry knowing."

"And the Ministry is under You-Know-Who's control anyway," Harry reasoned.

"Maybe…" Hermione said, looking distant. She shook her head. "Yes, I mean, they seem to have the Minister and all."

"That still puts us about as far from finding it as we were," Harry said, groaning. "We can hardly just stroll into the Ministry openly."

"We can't," Hermione agreed, looking askance, both uncertain and cleverly at the same time. "But maybe… maybe we can find someone who can."

"Mr. Weasley is sticking his neck out enough being a part of the Order," Harry protested.

"Not him," she replied, laughing. "I'd never want to get him in trouble."

Then, she gave Harry an odd smile, and stood.

"This is mental," Harry said, half an hour later, following Hermione down a crowded London street.

"Noted," Hermione said. "But it's the only way I can think of. And we don't have to get anywhere near the Ministry."

"I don't think this is much better…" Harry said, looking up at the sign.

 **D** aily **A** griculture **I** ndustry **L** ondon **Y** ammer

 **P** reparing **R** ural **O** wners for **P** rofitable **H** arvests and the **E** nvironment of **T** omorrow

"That _is_ the most dull sounding paper ever," Hermione said with a wink and a laugh.

"Hermione," Harry said, stopping her. "Are you alright? You never jump into something like this… It's the sort of thing you tell _me_ off for doing. This isn't because of the article, right?"

"Harry," she said. "We were ready to go into the Tower to take care of the barrier already."

"But we had a plan, and the twins…" Harry protested. "For all we know, there are Ministry officials visiting who might arrest us on the spot."

"We're not even going in," Hermione said. "Just trying to get her attention."

"How could we do that without going inside?" he asked. "You never explained that part."

She strolled over to the door, stopping a young man who was on his way in.

"Excuse me," she said, looking more tentative than she ever did.

"Yes?" he asked, looking at her with a squinting eye.

"If Miss Skeeter is in," Hermione said, holding a slip of parchment out to him. "Some-some one g-gave me a n-n-note for h-her."

"Ah, let me guess," he said, laughing. " _Someone_ would like an autograph?"

Hermione blushed, looking down, and not saying anything. Harry watched from a few steps away in surprise. He'd never seen Hermione that tongue-tied and flustered. She was full of surprises today.

"Alright," the man said, laughing. "I'll pass it to her. You wait out here and if she signs it, I'll bring it back."

"Th-thank you," she said, timidly.

The man took the note from her with a wry grin, slipping into the building shaking his head and chuckling. Hermione walked back to where Harry was, and took his arm. She strolled briskly, taking him to the corner, and waited. The young man did not come back, but several minutes later, Harry saw a very disheveled Rita Skeeter come running out of the building, turning to the corner, seeing them and sprinting down the way.

"What is the meaning of this, girl?" she demanded, looking furious. "What kind of emergency is-" Then, as she reached them, her eyes widened in shock. "You?"

"Come walk with us," Hermione said, gesturing down the cross road. "We just want to talk."

"As if I'd come into some trap," the woman balked. "I've been _sought after_ when I put out a news article people didn't like before, you know."

"We just want to talk," Harry repeated Hermione, hoping it gave her words weight. "Would we risk someone finding us to mess with you? We've got enough to worry about."

Rita looked between them, seeming to weigh something in her mind. She pulled out her wand, holding it at her side, and then nodded for them to move ahead. Rita walked slightly behind them, making sure they were both in her sight. Harry shrugged, looking at Hermione and walked.

"You two are in a lot of trouble," she muttered. "And mad as a hatter to boot."

"We do what we must," Harry managed, trying not to laugh at the odd situation.

"What do you want?" she asked. "If it's to stop writing articles, you can forget it. No one will believe you, whatever you think you have on me."

Hermione sighed. "It's not about your writing, odious as that may be," she said. "We are asking you to find something for us…"

"Me?" Rita said, laughing out loud. "I'm hardly a niffler, am I?"

"No one said you are," Hermione said, sniffing. "But you can go places we cannot, where few could."

"What could you two possibly be after?" Rita asked. "Other than one way tickets to Azkaban."

"There's something hidden - we believe in the Ministry of Magic - creating that barrier keeping everyone in England and everyone else out. We're asking you to help us find it," Harry said, seeing Hermione nod, but frown.

"Direct at last," Rita said, appraising Harry with her eyes. "I do admire directness. But you're insane."

"We don't want you to do anything with it," Hermione jumped in. "Just let us know if you can find it, or where it might be."

"The whole flaming Ministry'd know if I was skulking in the deepest reaches," Rita scoffed. "I _am_ well known."

"But you know how to ask in a way that would not sound like you were asking," Harry said. "You _are_ a well known reporter, aren't you?"

"Look," she said, stopping in the middle of the walk. "Even if I could find it - and I am not very certain I could - what's in it for me? I'm to stick out my neck for you lot and likely find myself beside you in a cell in Azkaban out of the goodness of my heart?"

"How about an exclusive interview with us?" Hermione offered.

Harry raised his right eyebrow, not sure what to think.

"No market for that," Rita said, curtly. "You're no one and his word is dung in the Prophet right now. And don't even think about threatening me. No one will believe your word against mine."

"It hadn't crossed my mind," Hermione said.

"Is there anything we could give you that would be of interest?" Harry asked, racking his brain.

"That is the question of a man without anything to offer," Rita said, laughing. "You're wasting my time."

"No!" Hermione said as the woman turned. "We can… create a spell for you. We have made created new spells before. If there's anything you've wanted to do but have no spell for…"

Rita stopped, frowning. "Intriguing…" she muttered. "How can I be sure you will deliver?"

"Ask us for a spell," Hermione said. "We'll create it, show you the spell, but not tell you how it works… until you let us know what we are looking for."

Rita stood there, looking off down the road, her wand had been deposited in her pocket at some point. Harry wasn't sure if she had done it on purpose or forgotten she had had it out in the first place for a reason. After a while, she looked at the pair of them, her eyes lit up.

"Too many people," Rita began, her smirk a bit annoyed, "have worked out how to shield conversations of … interest. It's tough enough being a journalist when people waffle on whether to tell you things, but when so many take measures to make it difficult…"

"You'd like a spell to get around Imperturbable Charms?" Harry asked.

Rita shrugged. "A girl's gotta eat," she replied. "But if it's too hard…"

"We'll do it," Hermione said, a fierce smile on her face.

Rita smirked, looking sure they wouldn't. "Show me the charm, and I'll think about helping you lot out. No promises that I can find what you're looking for. For all I know, it may not even be in the Ministry… whatever it is."

"Thank you," Hermione said, nodding. "We'll return when we have the spell."

"Send an owl next time," Rita said. "And say … 'Petunia has a story.' I'll meet you outside the flower shop two blocks down from the Prophet. No more sending senior reporters in with silly fan girl stories. There are far too many interested in flagging their tongues, as it is."

"Thank you," Harry said. "We'll let you know."

Rita shook her head, laughing as she walked off as at some private joke. The pair watched her head back, but she didn't regard them once on the way back.

"Can we trust her not to show up with a dozen Ministry officials when we owl?" Harry asked.

"We need to know where that barrier focus is," Hermione said, voice set, determined. "Besides, being able to get through an Imperturbable Charm could be useful to us, too."

Harry sighed. "Sometimes, I think the twins have gotten to you a bit too much," he said.

"Like you're any better, Harry Potter," she said, laughing. "Come on, we have a spell to design."


	26. Chapter 26: Into the Den

Harry reached down, helping Hermione up out of the manhole. She looked around carefully, observing the street around them. He had done that a moment ago, and nothing had changed. He looked again, too, though. His heart was racing and they were nowhere near where they needed to go.

Hermione gave him a determined look, and then smiled. He nodded in response, following her lead through the winding streets. How she had memorised the complicated path from this specific exit to the destination, he was not sure. Harry had never come here from this direction.

They wound, walking unhurriedly from street to street, passing dozens of buildings, short and tall. The air was wet as a cold London fog rolled through. Harry felt droplets collect on his cheeks, but didn't bother to wipe them away. They would be back in moments, in any case. As a side effect - and a positive one, for once - the streets remained fairly empty. Those who did pass by all hurried, scurrying to and fro with or without brollies.

At last, the winding streets were left behind, and they came to the spot Hermione had picked out. It was between two hedgerows with very little visibility to the streets on either end. The Muggle houses on the right and left were completely invisible behind the overgrowth. It was perfect.

"You ready?" she asked.

Harry nodded, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. As one, they removed their necklaces, depositing these in their robes. Harry pulled out his wand and began the careful transformation they had practiced, shortening Hermione's hair and changing it to a dirty blonde, her nose became longer and cheeks more defined, the eyes were suddenly a faint green. He didn't know enough Transfigurations to safely change her height or much else, but the face and hair would do enough. When he had finished, Hermione made her own changes to his face. He couldn't see it, but he felt his hair reach down to his shoulders, its suddenly curly ends a faint brown.

She nodded at her work, and they both focused, picturing the place they would be going, the destination that awaited them. As long as the alert took a while to sort, they should be able to get in and out without trouble. Should was the keyword. They only had one shot at this, and Harry hoped all of their planning would be worthwhile. Turning, Harry felt the hard compression of Apparition, keeping his focus despite the growing terror within.

Then, he was standing in the long Atrium, looking across at the statuary that marked the entrance to the seat of Wizarding Britain's government, the Ministry of Magic. It had remained the same each time Harry had entered: a Wizard and a Witch with a goblin, centaur and house elf looking at them in an adoring way. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, feeling rather than seeing Hermione beside him. They had agreed not to speak or take notice of each other, at first. Two random individuals approaching were much less noticeable than a pair entering together.

They filtered into the crowd, and flowed over to the lifts. The security at the front desk vaguely watched everyone, not focusing on any individual. Harry saw dark circles under the nearest guard's eyes, his eyes wandering from the floor to the people as he jolted from near-sleep to alertness. Harry looked away, focusing on the crowd ahead and the lift he was entering.

Of the many lifts, only was headed downward, marked by a floating arrow that appeared to be an arrangement of fireflies in a glass above the lift doors. Harry entered this, followed by Hermione and one, grumpy-faced old man. He never glanced at the two of them. Harry hoped his nerves made him look like a petitioner to the courtrooms on level ten. After a moment, all of them exited onto the ninth level, and the man hurried off, taking the only door at the end of the hall without a look behind him.

"How many people do you reckon work down here?" Hermione asked, frowning after him. The expression looked strange on her altered expressions, very much in the way she would frown, but on a face that did not quite fit it.

"Rita didn't really say much about it," Harry said, shrugging. "We really couldn't come at night. It would be too obvious, and they have more guard now than they used to."

"I know," she said, sounding regretful. "It's unfortunate we didn't know somewhere we could hide until nightfall, but…"

Torchlight here barely lit the dark tiled walls and floors. Harry's eyes had a tough time adjusting after the light in the Atrium, but they could not wait to be noticed by the next person to come by. Harry strode forward with Hermione at his side. A part of him wondered how long it would take before they received the alert that Harry and Hermione's Trace had been noticed, and at the Ministry, of all places! They could put on their necklaces, of course, but the spells protecting their identity would immediately disappear. In a balance between recognition and detection from the Trace, they had had to gamble that the Trace would take longer.

"I wish we had a better indication of where to look," Harry grumbled, earning a shrug from Hermione.

"So, there you go," Harry said, sitting across the booth from the woman. "Is that what you were looking for?"

"Yes," Rita said, giving her most winning smile. "That will do perfectly."

"So," Hermione asked, "when will you start looking?"

"It's in the Department of Mysteries," Rita said. "If what you're looking for is anywhere in the Ministry, it will be there. I've got access anywhere else I want."

"You knew?" Harry asked, irritated.

"In Wizard's Chess," Rita replied, smirking, "never tell your opponent your strategy. If you had known I had information, you might have tried to force me to give it up. Journalists are not fools, Harry Potter."

"Where in the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione asked, glaring at the older woman.

"She only knew what she knew," Hermione replied, lighting her wand and walking up the hallway. "We're frankly lucky to get that much information."

They approached the end of the hall, coming up on a plain, black door. Harry pushed it inwards and they faced a room full of doors. They had been here once before, when Death Eaters forced him to take the prophecy. That had broken before it could be used by Voldemort, but the whole of it had left a rather nasty impression in Harry's mind. The darkness and pale, blue/white light of the torches did little to lift the mood. They had discussed this, but neither of them could remember anything about which door was which. Harry suspected the fear and worry of it had wiped that from their minds, if there wasn't a magical source for the forgetfulness.

"Pick one?" Harry asked.

"Let's try this one," Hermione said, opening a door third from the right hand side. "It would help if we had found anything about what could create this barrier."

The room was wide, with seating going up on all sides. In the centre, an archway stood with a fluttering veil covering the gap. This was not one of the rooms they had entered the first time. Harry frowned. The arch was certainly of importance to someone, but would it make a barrier?

"Should we check it out?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, faintly. She looked at the archway with uncertainty, but didn't say anything. They entered, closing the door behind them. No one was in this room, which was a fortunate thing. Harry pulled out his wand and began to circle the dais that held the archway. It had nothing behind it. Literally, the archway stood on its own, like it had been taken from some palace or other building long ago.

Harry shook his head. "I d-" he began, then he stopped.

There was a whispering coming from deep within the archway, if deep was a possible place for something that was no wider than he was. He couldn't make out what the voices were saying… they sounded familiar, somehow, like he should know who was speaking. Still, it meant nothing to him.

"It looks old, Harry," Hermione said, still standing by the closed door.

Harry turned, seeing her hold her arms, her eyes staring at it.

"I don't think we should go near it," she said. "It feels… wrong."

"Do you hear the voices?" Harry asked. "I can hear whispering."

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said, gesturing with her left hand. "I don't think this is what we're looking for."

"But the voices…" Harry began.

"We have to keep moving," she said, her voice stronger. "We don't know how long it will be before someone finds us."

"Oh- okay," Harry replied, giving one last look at the arch before returning to the door with Hermione.

She gave it a final suspicious look and they entered the room of doors. The walls spun around them as the door shut, making Harry dizzy for a second. He shook his head when it finished. Each door looked identical to the ones before it.

"Ah, that's right," Harry said. "It rotates them. That's why the Death Eaters wanted me to hold the door while they opened another one. That would keep it from becoming all tangled up!"

"So, we try each door, and just keep one open while we do it?" Hermione asked the air, nodding. "Just a crack, though. Enough to glance in without getting too much notice, right?"

At the last she looked at Harry, and he nodded, agreeing. They opened the doors one by one, starting from the one right behind Harry. The first had vats full of strange lumps. Harry dismissed it immediately, and they moved on to see rooms with other odd things. The fourth was the room of prophecy they had seen before. There was one completely locked.

"Alohomora!" Hermione tried, frustrated to see no change. "Alohomora! Do you know any other unlocking spells?"

Harry shook his head. "That's the normal one. I don't think I've run across another… maybe? I can't think of any."

"Let's come back to it if we don't find what we're looking for," Hermione said.

They moved methodically onwards, keeping the previous door cracked while they opened the next one. Somehow or other, they had not run across any of the Unspeakables, the Ministry officials who worked in the Department of Mysteries. Harry couldn't imagine why, but he didn't want to question the luck. It was possible they focused on one mystery together each day.

"There's only four more doors," Hermione said, looking at Harry with a frown. "Maybe this isn't …"

"We have to keep trying," Harry said. "It shouldn't take long to try the last few."

Hermione nodded, her frown remaining. Harry opened the next door, and his eyes blazed with amber light. His arm instinctively covered his eyes, but that did not prevent the light from reaching their target. His closed eyes had bright purple swaths coating the face of it. Unlike magical lights Harry was used to, this light did not fade. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked into the room. Beside him, Hermione gasped.

"The crystal tree," Harry managed to utter. "How?"

"Harry," Hermione asked, "what is it?"

"It's… I don't know," Harry said, chuckling. "I just know that there are four of them, and they were in the Room of Requirement, somehow. I saw them there once. I thought I saw them when the Room sent me to Gibraltar. But how they got here…"

"So, they took this from the school?" Hermione asked, sounding shocked.

"They stole it," Harry said, feeling an anger bellowing in his stomach. How could they have taken this from the school?

"So, this is what's making the barrier?" Hermione asked, awe filling her voice.

"It must be," Harry said, stepping towards the light without realising he was walking.

He stopped himself a few steps from the tree itself. This close to the tree, somehow his anger had washed away. There was something so beautiful in it, like a song he had never heard or… Harry couldn't think of how to describe it properly.

"Whatchoo two doin' in a place like this, eh?" asked a grizzled wizard stepping around the glowing tree. "Youz not Unspeakables…"

Harry watched the man, trying to see if he had any colleagues around. The man shouldn't be able to recognise them. They were in disguise. That did not mean they would escape extra inquiries as they had been found deep in the Department of Mysteries. The Death Eaters in the Ministry, particularly, would be interested to find out who was snooping around their special barrier.

"We're… just here to clean," Hermione invented, trying to sound calm. "Someone reported a mess, and I'm afraid we've gotten a bit mixed up."

"We don't have Magical Maintenance down here," the man said, eyeing them suspiciously. "What are your names?"

"I'm Matthew Henry," Harry said, using the name they had agreed upon.

"And I'm Romilda Avers," Hermione added. "I guess this is some mix-up. Apologies."

"We'll go check in with our supervisor," Harry said. "Maybe he's been hitting the Firewhiskey a bit early…"

"I told you it sounded funny," Hermione told him, looking at Harry angrily.

"You said?" Harry replied, confused. Hermione gave him a significant look, and he caught on. "I told you they never have maintenance down here and the old man must be daft!"

"Sounds just like a man to pretend he knew long before he actually did," Hermione said, huffing and turning her back. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips.

If it wasn't so serious, Harry might have busted up laughing. The whole situation was so absurd and he had no idea how the man could possibly believe their story.

"Look, just get back up topside," the man grumbled, sounding irritable. "Take yer argument with ya, right?"

"Ye-yes, that might be best," Harry said.

Hermione only crossed her arms in a really good likeness of a huff, emphasising what Harry had said.

"Out the way you came," the man said, "and out the next door to the right. That'll run straight up to the lift. Got it?"

"We got it," Harry replied, leading Hermione out of the room.

He had opened that door when Hermione shut the other one. The look on her face was amused, and excited somehow.

"Come on," he said. "The man will check on us shortly."

"No, come this way," she said, running over to open a door halfway across the room.

"What?" Harry asked.

"We can't leave without getting the tree out of here," she said, "and we'll never get it out of here during the day. We need somewhere to hide."

She waved him over when the door was open. "Shut that first," she said, pointing to the door he was holding.

Not thinking, Harry shut it. He hurried over.

"They could find us at any time," he whispered as he came even with her. "How do you know they won't find us down here?"

"I don't think you can track anything down here," Hermione said. "If they noticed us, it will be a very minor blip and seem like something went wrong with their monitoring spells. We should be able to hide out here for hours."

"If the man doesn't find us," Harry pointed out. "Or someone else."

"It's worth it," she said. "We have to try. Now, go in, I'll shut the door so he doesn't find us in the entry."

She half pushed Harry into the room. Harry's eyes went wide as he saw which she had chosen.

"The prophecy room?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, walking past him. "It's large and probably rarely occupied. We could hide in some remote spot and hear anyone coming long before they came nearby. We wait until nightfall and slip out, grab the tree and Apparate with it from the Atrium."

"Hopefully we can move it," Harry said, following.

"We'll have to figure that out when we get there," Hermione said. "We should have time."

"Alright," Harry said. "I guess, worst case, we can fight our way back to the Atrium to escape. Let's just hope no more than one person at a time comes across us."

Hermione nodded, and then said, "Let's keep quiet, for now. We'll crouch over there, watching and listening for anyone coming."

Time passed, slowly. Harry stood occasionally, stretching, but remaining as quietly as possible. Hermione glanced around when he did that, and gave him a smile and a nod. Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed. It just felt never-ending. He had to keep alert, though. The faint glow that rose and fell on the rack of prophecies nearby was the only change, and that slow, gradual. It was a bit hypnotic, though. Several would change from light to dark in a group and then nothing would happen for some time.

Every once in a while, there was some distant sound. It could be an experiment in another area, maybe even just doors slamming in the hall. Harry really couldn't tell. He gripped his wand a little more tightly when that happened. But each time, nothing happened. After a few minutes, Harry relaxed a little. If Hermione was tensing as much as he was each time, she gave no sign. She remained perfectly quiet. In the quiet, he could hear her breathing, and his own. Both were relatively slow and quiet.

Eventually, all sounds stopped. Ages passed without a sound. Hermione didn't tell him what she was waiting on or how she meant to know when the Ministry had shut for the night, but she did not show any sign of indecision. She looked deep in thought, though. Harry had spent a short time trying to come up with the best way to move the tree. Levitation made the most sense. Maybe one of them could hover the tree into the lift and the other be ready to defend. There could be a guard on the ground floor, but one guard was not the same as a dozen Death Eaters. He would take one over many any day.

"Okay," Hermione said. "That should do it."

"How'd you know?" Harry asked, confused.

"The prophecies on this row glow periodically, right?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah?" Harry asked. "A bunch of them change at the same time."

"That one, though," Hermione said, pointing to a random one, "changes every ten minutes. I counted the first one off and then just noticed how many times it changed."

"Brilliant," Harry said.

Hermione smiled. "Let's go take care of that tree."

"I figured one of us could levitate it," Harry said, "assuming it isn't held down in some way. And the other can be ready if anyone finds us."

"That sounds very sensible," Hermione said, nodding as she opened the door back to the hall of doors.

"I'll get the other door," Harry said, walking across to the other side of the hall.

He pulled open the door and saw the blaze of amber light hit his eyes again. Hermione was beside him before he noticed he had walked into the room again. Blinking Harry turned his eyes away from the tree for a moment.

"It kinda draws you in," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I don't know how that man was not affected."

"It was like this last time, but more," Harry said. "With all the trees… it was … overwhelming."

"Well, let's see if we can lift the tree and get it out of here," Hermione said. "We can work out how to stop the barrier later… if taking it doesn't do that."

"And how to get it back to Hogwarts," Harry said. "That's where it belongs."

"Right," Hermione said, frowning. "Later. For now… Wingardium Leviosa!"

Harry felt a stab of something, like a spike of anger or pain. He wasn't sure what, but the tree must have been behind it. The tree floated and the feeling went away. There was something, uneasy, like a worried sort of feeling. But it fell to the background as the light sent its soothing feeling over him again.

"Did you feel that?" Hermione asked, her hand wavering.

"Keep it in the air," Harry insisted. "I … I did. I think it felt it and was … scared?"

"The tree?" Hermione asked, looking at him, startled.

"I don't think it is a tree," Harry said. "It thinks… feels."

Hermione looked at the tree, doubtful, but looked away, clearly trying to resist the feelings the tree gave her. "Let's keep it from brushing on things, in any case," she said. "Whatever it is… I can feel something from it."

Harry led the way, his wand held out in front of him. They backtracked through the hall of rooms, and down the empty corridor to the lift. The place felt as empty as it had been earlier, but he was sure that it was more so. The Ministry was after hours, so very few people would be around. They might just pull this off.

Harry crowded into the back of the lift and Hermione was at the front, keeping the tree floating carefully in the middle. The lift moved for a very short time, stopping in the Atrium with a faint bell sound. Harry couldn't see anything until Hermione moved out and took the blazing bright tree with her. He stepped out and could only see up to the Magical Brethren statue. The security desk was empty. What luck!

As he took a couple steps, the hair rose on his arm and he thought he heard a sound.

"Get down!" he called out.

He ducked down as a dozen spells flew through the air. A heavy thud from beside him filled him with dread before the tree struck the ground with an even worse feeling. It felt like the universe was crying and in pain. If Harry hadn't been low to the ground already, he would have fallen over. From cries across the Atrium, the mysterious attackers had felt the same without any preparation.

Harry shot a look at Hermione, and could see her, unconscious and breathing heavily. The tree, however, had fallen on its side, the amber glow almost an angry shout in his eyes. Shouts began to come from the other end of the hall. Whatever affect the tree had had on them seemed to be fading. Harry crawled over, his wand still grasped hard in his right hand. He sent spells over his shoulder and ahead and basically in any direction he could manage as he crawled to Hermione's side.

He couldn't see who was there or how many. All he saw was Hermione and the blazing light of the tree. Taking Hermione's arm by she elbow and the tree with as tight a grasp as he could manage with his wand hand, Harry turned, focusing on where he wanted to go. As he went, a blaze of red light seemed to close on him, mere metres, one metre, no metres….

The hard compression felt worse than ever, nearly shaking him out of it in the first instant. His grips on Hermione and the tree might as well have been grips on oiled sails being pulled away by a gale. But he hung on. With every last ounce of his strength, Harry clung to the tree and his girlfriend. He couldn't let go. Even if it broke his arms - as it seemed it might - he couldn't let go.

Then, with a crack, he felt solid ground below him. Immediately, he took a look at Hermione. She still breathed steadily, more easily than before. The tree pulsed, its amber blazing forth in this small alley. It seemed… bewildered was the best term he could think of. He didn't mind it for the moment, though he knew he would have to move it soon. That would draw attention if nothing else did.

Waving his wand over Hermione, he said, "Ennervate! Finite!"

Hermione shook and her disguise disappeared. She looked up at him, herself again, and awake. Harry smiled at her.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he said, helping her up.

"What happened?" she asked, shaking her head. "Where are we?"

"The alley," he said. "The emergency one. Someone was waiting for us, but I think the tree falling confused them enough I could Apparate us here. We need to get the tree into the hideout, for now. They will find this entrance, but I didn't know how far I'd have to carry you and the tree."

"I'm fine," she said. "I'll carry the tree. Let's get down there."

She levitated the tree again, descending into the manhole while Harry watched for anyone coming. How had they found them? That was far more than one security guard. Maybe the Unspeakable warned the people in the Atrium? Maybe he had been a Death Eater, in fact, and Voldemort had suspected it might be Harry and Hermione? He shook his head. No way to tell.

Harry descended after Hermione and the tree, seeing no one else coming. They could sort all that out later. For now, at least, she was safe. They both were. And they had the tree. They could break the barrier. They would find a way.


	27. Chapter 27 : Reactions

"How would we know if it worked?" Hermione asked, walking slowly around the blazing amber tree.

She touched her head, gently, without seeming to realise she was doing it. They had been back an hour, and Harry worried that she had hurt her head. She denied it was in pain, but she kept touching it like that. He wanted to call Madam Pomfrey, but she had stomped on that idea, quickly. She caught a glimpse of his eyes on her, and moved her hand away from her head, looking back at the tree.

"I don't know," Harry said to fill the silence. They had been over this a dozen times already. "I suppose the barrier would be down, and we could see that."

"I just hope the magic in it can't be detected here," Hermione said. "The Department of Mysteries is one thing, but we had to make up the protection spells here ourselves. Who knows what shielded it there?"

"We've never noticed it at Hogwarts," Harry said, shrugging. "No one has. There's always magic around it, though, so that may have disguised it."

If Hermione felt the sense of deja vu from repeating the same questions, she gave no sign. Her face had maintained a solid grimace since they had returned. He had made sure she sat down at first, but her feet had not taken to the stillness. Harry had remained sitting on the sofa, but no matter where you were in the room, the tree dominated your sense of sight. Even looking directly away from it was little less bright. The light paneling reflected the light almost as much as a mirror - perhaps some effect of the magic.

Just as Harry was about to speak again, the door opened and Harry's hand flew for his wand, pausing when he saw who it was.

"We just heard there was an attack on the Ministry," Remus said, squinting at the bright light, "and I wanted to… to… What is that light? Harry? Hermione?"

"We're here, Remus," Harry said, stepping forward, pocketing his wand, and helping guide the man in.

"Is that a tree?" Remus asked, scrunching up his eyes.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Let's… let's go to the kitchen. We can explain better, there."

Hermione's frown became a set expression of resignation. Harry was sure his own was similar. Their old professor looked confused and bewildered. His eyes had not fully adjusted yet, and Harry thought that was sensible given the intensity of the light.

Harry flicked his wand at the kettle, heating it as he pulled out three cups and saucers and some tea. Behind him, he was aware that the door to the living room was shut as the light from the tree dissipated. A scratching sound indicated one or both of them were taking seats.

"What is going on?" Remus asked.

"We… found that," Hermione said, "and Harry - well, we … we believe it's what the Death Eaters were using to create the barrier."

Harry turned back to the table with the cups of tea. The look of shock on Remus' face was slowly changing to one of understanding and… anger.

"It _was_ you," he said, looking up at Harry as Harry put a cup in front of him. "You don't know what kind of risk you were taking! The Ministry is up in arms, sweeping the streets for any information as to who broke in. They're dragging people in for questioning, anyone they can find. Do you realise what could have happened? You went into the Ministry when they've been looking for you for months?"

"Remus-" Harry began, putting out a hand. "We used-"

"I don't want to hear it," Remus said, smacking his hand so hard on the table that the cups rattled. "Do you know how many people are worried about you? I had half the Order trying to come along when I decided to check on you. All of them were sure you'd gotten yourselves killed or … And I told them, you were fine, you two were more sensible than that."

"We had disguises, Remus," Hermione said, her voice shaky under his glare. "No one would have recognised us."

"I don't care!" Remus shouted. "Did you two even think before going in there? Dumbledore has left you alone here, on the premise you wouldn't do anything crazy. You're supposed to discuss it with the rest of us, like all of us do. We could have - we would have sent someone with you, or many someones. Rather, instead of you. How'd you even find the thing? Wander the halls for hours?"

"We had… information passed to us," Harry said. "It was down in the Department of Mysteries, so hardly anyone goes down there…"

"And the disguises kept anyone from recognising us," Hermione said. "We found it, and hid until after nightfall. I think a guard must have seen us on the way out, that's all. Harry Apparated us away…"

Harry certainly did not want to discuss who was their informant or all that happened. He absolutely didn't want to tell Remus that Hermione had been hurt in the middle of it. He jumped in before Remus could go on.

"The important-" he began.

"No," Remus said. "You two are not getting it. This was incredibly dangerous, and I have half a mind to drag you back to the Order to be protected under guard."

"But-" Harry tried to sneak a word in.

"Dumbledore will decide what to do," Remus said. "I can't cover for this. You've put a lot of people at risk today."

"But, they stole it from the school," Harry burst out.

"What?" Remus asked, looking confused. He turned back to the door, catching the glowing edges around the door. "I know you grew up there, but I knew Hogwarts better than most. I think I would have noticed a glowing tree."

"Harry saw it and three others in the Room of Requirement," Hermione said.

Remus frowned.

"I think they're integral to the school," Harry said. "When I was looking for safety, they appeared, warm and protective. When it was sending me away, transporting me to Gibraltar, I saw them in my mind. I don't know what they are, exactly, but someone has taken this one, at least, out of the Room. That can't be good for the school."

"It might make the school dangerous for anyone there," Hermione said. "It will need to be returned after we figure out how to stop the barrier… if taking it hasn't done that?"

"I don't know," Remus said, his frown deepening. He closed his eyes, putting a hand over his forehead.

He stood and walked over to the sink, leaning on it with both hands and drumming his fingers on the basin with an arhythmic thump. Shaking his head, he turned around. He took a deep breath. He held up his hands, looking between the two of them.

"Look," he said, much more calmly. "I am not your professor any more. I can't tell you how to do everything, and heaven knows I hardly set the best example of safety when I was your age."

He paused, watching their faces. Harry felt this was not the time to make a sound. The man clearly had more to say.

"These are dangerous times," Remus said, putting his hands together. "We need to do things together, not apart. I can't teach you to be patient, but it's something you must learn. If anything had happened, beyond whatever did - and I won't grill you on that…" His expression said he knew they had held something back. "No one could have helped you if the Ministry got its hands on you, or the Death Eaters. We know where the Ministry is… but not where they might take you. If they shielded you, we might never find you.

"I have to tell the others what I know," Remus said. "Expect lectures… and worse, from everyone who cares about you. Now, what do you know about that tree? Let me at least bring them _some_ good news."

Harry found himself looking down. The calm disappointment, and the thought of more to come from Dumbledore, the Weasleys, and who knew who else… that was worse than Remus' yelling. He felt a sinking inside. That elation at getting out safely and taking the source of the barrier, all faded. He had been so focused on getting something done… He had just hoped the ends would overwhelm the risk… This would help a lot of people, he was sure it would.

"It … emanates emotions," Hermione said, surprising Harry. He had almost forgotten the question in his own thoughts. "They kind of fill you. I don't know how to explain it…"

"It bumped the floor at one point," Harry said, "and I felt a wave of pain and anger roll through me. When we first saw it, there was peace and something… called to me."

Hermione nodded. "It feels very expressive, but does not like being moved around," she said.

"I think it's not really aware of where it is or what it is doing," Harry said. "But maybe it knows it is not with the others. When I saw them the first time, it was much warmer, like … loving arms enclosing you. This is… less than that."

"Do you know how it is making the barrier?" Remus asked. "Are you sure that it is?"

"I … don't," Harry said. "But I feel it must be. It sort of fits with that protective sensation. Plus, I know it was at the school when we were last there. I saw it when I was transported. All of them were there. I am sure of it."

"And they had the barrier up pretty soon after that," Hermione said, nodding.

"But you don't know for sure," Remus said. "There could be more of these. I can't say I have heard of anything like it, but a think that exists may not be the only one. You know of a few others, as it is."

"True," Harry admitted, reluctant. "But we know You-Know-Who was in the Room of Requirement. So, he had the opportunity, if he noticed it when we were taken away. If he knows the ways of the Room, he could have found it."

"That theory has a lot of ifs to it," Remus said, shrugging. "But, it is worth investigating. At the least, we will get Dumbledore to inspect the tree. If he cannot find something in it…"

Hermione nodded. "Whatever it is," she said, "I would rather the enemy not have it."

"I'm worried if they took any of the other ones," Harry said. "What are they to the school? Will it still function safely?"

"If he took them," Remus said. "We can have someone investigate, carefully. I will take this news back. Do not go anywhere. Protect the tree, and do not leave. I am sure Dumbledore will come shortly."

"Thank you," Harry said as Remus rose, "for hearing us out."

"Don't thank me, yet," Remus said, his voice a touch amused. "I expect you will not be too happy with me after Molly hears about this…"

Harry and Hermione saw Remus out. The man glanced at the tree again before he departed, frowning at it with his hand shielding his eyes. Then, he departed, exiting through the door and leaving the pair of them in silence. Hermione took Harry's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I'm sorry," he began after a time.

"Don't you dare," she said, dropping his hand to look at him, hard. "I made my decision to go. You cannot lay everything at your own feet, Harry Potter. I wanted to go, so I did. We made our decisions, and if there are consequences, we both face them. You didn't make me do a thing."

Harry stared, and tried to think of a word to even begin a response.

"The rest of them may not see either of us as able to make our own decisions until we're of age," Hermione went on. "But I don't want you to see me that way. We're in this together, alright?"

He nodded, still not sure what to say. Her look softened and she put her hand on his shoulder, turning to the tree.

"I hope it is worth it," she said. "What he said… about people being interrogated. It must be worth it."

"I think it is," Harry said. "I just hope no one is hurt."

She nodded, indistinctly. Before either of them could say anything, though, the door banged open and voices descended on them in a tumult. In the blinding light of the tree, Harry took a moment to recognise the entrants.

"How dare you!?" one began.

"You go off and do something so foolish!" another said.

"Without us?" they said together just as the images emerged from the light as the twins.

Suddenly, the pair were on either side of Harry and Hermione, looking down with large pouts on their faces.

"More people would have been noticed," Harry began.

"And it was risky enough…." Hermione tried.

"Nope!" Fred said. "Not good enough!"

"You… you try to raise them to include you in their crazy adventures…" George said, lamenting.

"You try your best to make them see you as mentors, father figures in the way of insanity," Fred said, looking at his brother in sympathy.

"And this is what we get!" they exclaimed together.

"We had to hear about this from Remus," Fred said. "We heard about your dangerous adventure from our old professor, for Circe's sake!"

"Didn't even send us an over the top Howler to announce it," George said, shaking his head.

"Or a dozen owls trained to bombard our store with feathers to form a note to us," Fred said. "Is that so much to ask?"

Harry suppressed a laugh, watching the pair in their usual antics. Whatever dress down they got from other adults, these two would never change. Harry hoped nothing ever did change them.

"Is this funny to you?" George asked Harry, looking serious but for the twinkle in his eye and the quirk at the edge of his mouth.

Harry nodded, his lips cracking into a smile and the twins burst into laughter. Hermione, beside him, shook her head, but laughed, as well. For a long moment, the four of them didn't seem to notice the glowing tree, and they didn't have to think about angry adults, impacts or what the tree could mean for Hogwarts or the Wizarding world. For a moment, they could just be four friends, laughing at something utterly silly and ridiculous. Harry wanted to cling to those moments forever. He hoped they would always return.


	28. Chapter 28: Breaking It Down

Hermione sat, feeling an air of expectation. Around a half dozen people sat around the table with her, cups of tea steaming, untouched, in front of each of them. No one spoke, but she could hear long speeches in the silent glances everyone exchanged. How so little time had passed, she was not sure. It felt like days since they had returned from the Ministry; however, if she had to guess, the clock in the hall would have only registered three hours.

Remus had been swift in gathering the Order. Of course, she was sure they wouldn't take their time. The tree was a serious thing. It was an interesting group, though, and few had really said anything since arriving. To her left, Harry tried to look calmly at everyone, but he wrung his hands quietly under the table. She took his right hand with a squeeze to help relieve his worry. He looked at her, questioning, but she just gave him a firm look and squeezed again. To his left, Flitwick sat, seemingly studying the wooden paneling of the table, frowning deeply, and deep in thoughts.

On Hermione's other side, Arthur Weasley sat, looking rather uncomfortable. He flicked regular glances back at the door to the living room. Hermione knew without looking that the door frame had an outline of bright, amber light. The twins - silent for once - sat beside their dad, looking at him with concerned expressions. Remus sat on the opposite side to Hermione, checking an old, crack-faced watch from his pocket every minute or two, sometimes twice within seconds without seeming to notice.

Hermione had tried to change the mood by offering everyone the tea, but that had only bought a couple minutes of activity while nothing whatsoever changed in the mood. There had been no spark of conversation. She only felt a slight sense of relief in that Mrs. Weasley had been unable to come tonight. The motherly woman was the most likely to have laid into them about their safety. Arthur had only frowned as they explained, and pulled each of them into a hug, saying he was thankful they were safe.

Click. Everyone rose at once, swiftly filing out of the kitchen at the sound. They found a slowly pacing Dumbledore entering, observing the tree with a hand over his eyes. In the light, Hermione could not make out any expression on his face, much less his eyes. Each of their guests had had a different reaction to the light, so far, some flabbergasted and staring, some babbling for a full minute before she could make sense of what they were going on about. Most had gone back to the Order, but the remnant had been asked to remain, waiting for this man. Dumbledore, though, stood and observed, like one would look at any old relic of interest. His calm, though pre-informed, was almost unnerving. It was not every day one saw an impossible relic, surely?

"Let's take care of that light, first," Dumbledore said. "It need not shine so brightly here as it is wont to do. Isn't that right?"

He did not seem to be addressing them in that last statement. Hermione thought she caught a light smile on the man's face. Then, he waved his wand in a slowly descending set of arcs and it was a thousand times dimmer in the room. Hermione felt like a veil had been thrown over the tree, like a powerful lampshade - even though no lampshade she had ever seen could have shielded their eyes from that glow.

"That's better," Dumbledore said, smiling at the rest of them while they blinked. "Let us sit and discuss."

He looked at the meagre seating in the living room and flicked his wand to summon additional chairs from some set he had previously Vanished. They were random in shape and assortment. Two poufs made an appearance, behind the twins, bright pink and nearly as eye-catching as the trees had been. The twins laughed as they took the seats, flopping back onto them. Hermione took a thin, wood, tall-backed chair that had appeared behind her. When everyone was seated, Dumbledore looked around.

"Does anyone know what this is?" he asked, not looking at the tree.

Hermione frowned. That had been the question, hadn't it? It was an artefact of power. Harry thought there had been more of them stored in the school, but why? Was it to protect them? Were they meant to be there or had someone lost them, forgotten in the Room of Requirement?

"It feels alive," Harry said, glancing at the tree and squinting. Even dimmer, the light was not easy to look at. "And gives off… emotions."

"It's clearly an artefact from an older age," Remus said, folding his hands over a knee. "What its purpose was, though, I cannot imagine."

"Do you suppose it predates the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?" Arthur asked with a puzzled expression. "A thing like that was not designed to hide from Muggles. They would notice it, I am sure."

"Do you know what it is, Albus?" Hermione asked, watching the man. His face had turned to each person speaking, but his expression had not changed.

"I have a theory," Dumbledore said, glancing over at the tree. "It is only a theory, however."

He stood, walking over to the tree, holding out a hand in the air towards it, but not touching it. His had retracted after a moment, and he frowned.

"We have all heard from Harry how he first and more recently saw the trees," Dumbledore said, turning back around, his hands folded behind his back. "Both occurrences were within the Room of Requirement, or Come and Go Room, as some know it. Both were in… might I suggest… desperate situations of some sort? Am I accurate at this point, Harry?"

Harry nodded, looking thoughtful. The others looked at Harry briefly before looking back at the Headmaster.

"Little is known or recorded about Hogwarts, truly," Dumbledore said, shrugging. "Even books like 'Hogwarts: A History' are quite limited in information about the school itself, and its founding. Of the Founders, themselves, we know little more than the Sorting Hat will tell. His brim is quite tight-lipped outside of his yearly poems. I think, perhaps, that was to more purpose than any vanity the four might have had in regards to their legacies.

"A school, while a noble and necessary place for the growth and stability in any society, has always seemed an interesting choice for four of the greatest Wizards and Witches of their age. We are so far down in the ages that no one questions the choice. Of course, the four greatest Wizards and Witches of an age created this legacy of their skills and knowledge. But, at the time, it was unheard of. No one had done it. The older schools - and yes a few survive - in various locales the world over were never on the scale of Hogwarts. It was only after its great example became known that the likes of Beauxbatons, Durmstrang or Ilvermorny became the norm for new students."

"What are you saying, Albus?" Remus asked, nonplussed.

"You believe the Founders may not have created Hogwarts only to teach," Flitwick said, his squeaky voice slower than usual, more thoughtful.

Dumbledore nodded, taking a seat on the sofa beside Arthur. "Aberrations of magic in nature have been known to happen," he said. "It is conceivable that the trees were either brought there or existed at the site of the school centuries before there was a block of stone set for the foundation."

"So, they're protected by the school?" Fred asked.

"And perhaps used in the magics that keep the school functioning still," Dumbledore said.

"Wicked," the twins said together.

"And dangerous," Remus said. "If You-Know-Who had one, he might have the others."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Dumbledore replied.

"If he knows where it comes from," Hermione said, "we cannot just return it, can we? They would find it in the same place they did the first time, wouldn't they?"

"Unless we can protect it better," Flitwick squeaked.

"Better than the Founders did?" Fred asked, sounding doubtful.

"Surround it by a gurgling lake that makes fun of you while you try to cross it," George said. "They'd never stand a chance."

"Yeah, You-Know-Who is a real softie," Fred said, laughing.

"Albus," Hermione said. "If all of them have been removed, what will happen to the school?"

"I do not know," Albus replied. "It is only a theory, after all. In any case, we should ascertain if the others have been taken, and find out what we can about the trees before we try to find where any have been taken."

"The urgent thing is to bring down the barrier," Arthur said. "We have people on the other side. The enemy can come and go as they wish while we're stuck abandoning wands and having duplicates made in other countries to physically get through."

"It is restricting our movement," Harry said. "And that is the reason we found the tree in the first place."

Albus looked at the tree. "I will see what I can do about that," he said, rising once more. "Excuse me, a moment."

He drew his wand, holding it lightly in his hand. His face was calm but Hermione could see the man's eyes were focused with a hard energy behind them. Albus began to pace around the tree, slowly, staying back from it, but letting his eyes flow down it and around, in the air past it. What he was seeing, Hermione could not begin to imagine. The air practically crackled with the intensity of the slow, dance-like circling.

"So, what?" Fred said, startling everyone sitting with the suddenness of his speech. "We going to break into Hogwarts to check if the trees are still there?"

"Sounds fun," George said.

"Dangerous," Remus breathed, his facial expression not changing a hair.

"We know secret ways in," Fred said. "You couldn't want anyone better looking."

"From a certain map?" Remus asked, blithely. "A map, I might add, that was confiscated with certain other belongings of Harry?"

"Oh, is that what happened to it?" Harry asked. "I had hoped someone had grabbed it."

"The Ministry swept in and confiscated all of your belongings," Remus said, nodding.

"We'll find a way in, anyway," George asserted, backing up his brother. "We've gotten past many a prying eye there."

"Don't we know it," Flitwick said, sighing. "However… I will ascertain whether the trees still may be found therein. I do work there, after all."

Fred looked ready to say something, but Hermione just laughed. "You can't really argue with that," she said, smiling at her old professor.

"I am curious what you think would be the best way in to see the trees, Harry m'lad," Flitwick said, serious. "I have heard about this room, but…"

"The entrance is across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy," Harry said, "up on the seventh floor. You… you need to walk past that blank space of wall three ways, back and forth, while thinking of what you need. The room is dependant on what you need, and the more specific you are, the better. I think in this case, honesty would help, too. Making the castle know you need to check on the trees, that we have found one outside the castle and want to ensure the others are safe, too. Something like that. It would need to believe you."

"How curious," Remus said, nodding to himself. "We certainly never added that to the map. I'm guessing it works on a similar principle to the hat, reading thoughts and intentions."

"Could we add it in?" Fred asked. "When we get the map back, I mean."

"It would be brilliant to add to your map," George said.

Remus chuckled. "I think James would love the idea of more mischief leading to more on the map," he said. "I am certain he never believed it was done."

"Did that answer your question, Professor?" Hermione asked, focusing again on the little man. His face did not look so certain.

"Professor?" Harry asked, nearly jumping beside Hermione at the look on the man's face.

"The seventh?" Flitwick asked, sighing and sitting back in his chair. "That could be some trouble."

"No one really goes down that corridor," Hermione said. "It's sort of a backway between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor common rooms, and most people will go down the main hall, anyway."

"No one did," Flitwick said, resigned, "before this term. Practically a garrison of the Ministry has made camp in that very hallway. They've set up cots and guard at each end. They justified it - as much as there is any justification - as keeping an eye out for insurgent parties."

"What, do they expect the Gryffindors from starting a riot?" Harry asked.

"They might," Fred said.

"Merlin knows how close a few of the Quidditch parties got," George said with a smile.

Arthur shook his head, frowning. "So, how are we to get in?" he asked.

"When did they garrison the Ministry there?" Harry asked, frowning.

"A week before the term started," Flitwick said. "The Gryffindor house was no happier about it than the Ravenclaws."

Harry groaned.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Vaguely, she noticed that Dumbledore had stopped circling the tree and was gently waving his wand over it. Everything he had done had been silent, and he had not taken part or noticed their conversation.

"If someone had gotten into the room before they put the troops there, he or she could open it to anywhere else in the school," Harry said, shrugging. "It was worth asking."

"I will have to work out some excuse for going in there," Flitwick said, frowning. "It must be done and…"

"You lot are all ignoring the obvious," Fred said, laughing.

"Completely," George said, amused.

The rest of them stared at the twins. Both looked at them as though they were the funniest thing they had ever seen.

"Too many rule-abiding bookworms here," Fred said, "right Georgie?"

"Indeed, brother," George said. "Do you think a little thing like guards would keep students out?"

"Heck, if we were there," Fred said, "the challenge itself would be all the incentive we'd have needed."

"That's before it became important," George said. "You think no one in the DA realised the advantage the room would have in their hands and out of their hands?"

"But how would they keep it open without someone staying inside?" Hermione asked. "They couldn't risk sneaking back in every night even if they did once."

"They'd find a way around it," Fred said. "The DA learned from the best, after all."

"Us!" George exclaimed, giving everyone a cheesy grin. "Oh, and Harry, I suppose… Hermione, too, but really, us most of all, right?"

"So," Fred said, before anyone could cut in, "you'll need to find a way to ask them without anyone noticing."

"And to figure out whom to ask," George said.

"I have most every student in the school in my classes," Flitwick replied. "Unfortunately, the DA has been disbanded, all organisations outside of Quidditch have been."

"Officially, you mean," Harry said, smiling. "It continued when Umbridge banned it, too."

"Who would keep it going, though?" Hermione asked, thinking. "Harry was always the leader."

"Neville always wanted to have meetings," Harry said, considering.

"Longbottom?" Flitwick asked, eyes surprised.

"Or our sis," Fred said. "Just don't tell mum if she is involved."

"Ron might be involved, too," George put in. "Gin definitely would. She's got a bone to pick with You-Know-Who anyway, and she sounded more determined than ever before she went back to school."

Arthur looked torn between pride, wanting to stop his daughter from doing something dangerous and the worry about his wife hearing about it. Remus put a hand on the man's shoulder, giving him a knowing look. Arthur chuckled.

"If you do speak with my children," Arthur said, "please remind them that their parents worry."

"I will," Flitwick said, sharing a look with the father.

A flash of light came from the other side of the room, drawing everyone's attention back to Dumbledore. Hermione rose as she saw the man stagger, but Arthur and Remus were there before anyone else, catching Albus by the arms and helping him sit.

"It is done," Albus said, catching his breath as he sat. "Tom put a rather tricky trap on the tree. It is a wonder no one was hurt moving it here. But it is severed, and the tree is free of the spells they used."

Hermione looked at the thing. It glowed, still dimmed by the spell from before, but the aura it gave off was different, lighter. It made a warm ball deep inside her feel a bit of relief. She hadn't even noticed that she felt clenched, tense. The tree had far greater impact on them than she had expected.

The others were working out the nuances of who to contact first outside and inside the broken barrier and how best to approach the students to find out about the trees in the school. Hermione stayed out of it for a moment, just watching them. The energy had certainly increased. There was momentum, now, and she hoped they could keep it up. Even tired, Albus had a new fire in his eyes. Harry was in it thick with the Weasleys and Remus. She smiled. Despite the risks and all that, they had done something good tonight. They could be proud of that.


	29. Chapter 29: The Ways of Hogwarts

Neville sat back, pressing his palms against his closed eyes. It did not reduce the headache that had been building all morning. The darkness was a temporary reprieve from the nearby torchlight, though. He just wished he might have slept better.

A tap and shuffle sound met his ears, and Neville lowered his hands, looking carefully over his shoulder. The rustle of a retreating robe brushed the edge of the aisle, but he couldn't see who it had tapped on the end of the shelves. His eyes drifted back up, noting what had changed. Four books were out of place, sticking out slightly from their normal immaculate uniformity. The first one, fifth from the left, meant a new recruit. The second indicated it was a Ravenclaw. The last two indicated the floor and room to meet. Third and hallway two.

Not that Neville would leave it that way. Madam Pince would kill him if she saw her precious books out of sort. He flicked his wand at them from where he sat, sending them back even with the others. His eyes roved back to the desk in front of him. The lone book was for Potions. Despite everything else, he still needed to pass his courses. Snape had been no easier on him than in past years. With a furrowed brow, he tucked the book in his bag and departed from the library.

Neville took his time ascending the two floors to the meeting. For a Saturday afternoon, the school was far busier than usual. Dozens of people passed him, either ignoring or waving. He didn't stop, but he made a mental note to stop DA members he didn't publicly know from greeting him with so much familiarity. They still hadn't gotten accustomed to the secrecy. Had he? Probably not. There were doubtless things he would wish he had not done. Still, he did his best. The message system was one of his better ideas.

The numbers seemed too big, most days, but that still left most of the school he had to be careful around. Recruitment at this level had never been his plan, but he could hardly watch over things alone. A pair of Hufflepuffs that had joined a day before watched him pass, eyes not friendly or unfriendly. Most seemed a bit overwhelmed when they first joined in, waiting for a mistake to prove they should have stayed out of it. He kept his face neutral. The Ministry's Guard watched him, more than most, so he tried to look as boring as possible.

On the second hallway on the third floor, Neville saw one door left slightly ajar. It was not enough to be noticed unless you were really looking for it. At least, in this area, they had gotten better. The first time, the door had been wide open with laughter audible halfway down the hall. With a sigh, he looked around, seeing no one in view, and slipped quickly into the door before shutting it.

The room was dim, but a small light was emanating from a wand held by one of his trusted lieutenants. Neville approached him, lighting his own wand. He could not make out who stood behind him.

"Who have you got for me, Dean?" he asked, smiling at the other boy and the figure behind him.

Dean gave a smile and a nod back, his face illuminated strangely in the dim wand light. "Angelina Johnson," he said, gesturing for her to come around to the front.

"Hi there," she said, looking about, nervous.

"Angelina!" Neville said, feeling properly happy. "Thank you for coming. We need all the help we can get."

"So, this is for real?" she asked. "I thought he might be putting me on."

Neville looked around at the door, frowned, and replied in a soft voice, "I figure, we all have to do what we can. It's what Harry and the others would do, after all."

"If he weren't missing?" Angelina asked.

"Well," Neville said, laughing, "missing from the Ministry's eye, in any case."

"Oh?" she asked. "Do you know where they are?"

Neville shook his head. "And I don't want to," he added. "We're all safer the less we know about his whereabouts."

"So, what's this really about?" Angelina asked. "If we're not helping Harry directly… Are you trying to attack the Ministry? You-Know-Who?"

Neville shook his head. He had heard questions much the same from everyone. People were scared. He felt like his biggest job since reforming the DA was soothing concerns, no matter what he really felt. Neville felt like he had to absorb all of their fear and hold it himself. They were relying on him. It was a group, but he was responsible. Well, he and Ginny, but he was the elder. It was his job.

"We're looking after students," he said. "The Ministry and You-Know-Who may be doing who knows what outside of Hogwarts, but with the Guard here, we want to keep an eye on things, make sure no one gets into trouble."

"And if someone does?" Angelina asked, frowning.

"We keep them safe," Neville said, glancing past her to Dean. Looking back at her, Neville asked, "Did you hear about the Patils?"

"Yes," Angelina said. "They had to go home because of their mother?"

Neville grimaced. He didn't like the story the Ministry had made, but he couldn't control it. "That's only the story they told people," Neville said. "Their parents were arrested. Why? We have no idea. But, the DA heard they were going to take them from school, too. We got to them first, and they are safe."

"Where?" Angelina asked.

"Do you remember the Room of Requirement?" he asked.

"Y-yes?" Angelina asked. "You mean the room we met for DA when that Umbridge woman was here?"

Neville nodded. "Yes," he said.

"But, isn't the entrance on their hallway?" she asked.

He didn't need her to tell him whom she was talking about. Everyone knew the Guard had taken over that seventh floor hallway for their own use.

"We have kept control of the Room since the beginning of the term," Dean said, breaking in. "Ginny figured it out."

"Ginny Weasley?" Angelina asked.

"The same," Neville said, shooting Dean a warning look. "We usually do not reveal other members to people who have not yet joined us. We are trying to protect each other, after all. In any case, looking out for students is a priority. We do what else we must to inhibit the Guard and You-Know-Who, minor as it may be from here."

"So, if I join up," she replied. "What would I do?"

"What do you want to do?" Neville asked.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, faintly. "After they cancelled Quidditch, again, I figure I should be doing something. At least that could have kept some school and House spirit up. Without it… everyone just looks tired."

Neville frowned. It was certainly not the usual interest in the DA. Most had a relative affected or hated the idea of the Death Eaters calling the shots via the Ministry. Some even rallied because they believed in Harry, of all things. Wanting to bring more cheer and energy had seemed a distant concern. Still, why protect them if they will feel ever more imprisoned and unhappy anyway?

"I think Quidditch might just be what we need," he said, a smile curling on his lips. "If you will join us, I think we could use your help in the Room."

Angelina looked confused, but nodded, absently. "Is… is it really dangerous?" she asked.

Neville frowned. "The Guard is dangerous," he said. "But I don't think that changes much if you're a student or in the new DA. At least this way, you are doing something about it. That's what I think, anyway."

"You seem different, Neville," Angelina said, suddenly.

He looked at her, his frown still the same. Had he changed that much?

"I mean, you're a lot less… hesitant than I remember…" she said, embarrassed. Shrugging, she said, "I guess a lot has changed."

Neville smiled, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. "Too much," he said. "Think about it. Reach out to Dean or me if you decide you want to help."

"Oh, alright," Angelina said, waving as he departed.

Neville slipped away, sighing. Most everyone decided to help out if they had reached out, but they needed time to think. How long had they been in school? It felt like months but he was sure it had only been a couple weeks. The deluge of joiners in the first week had slowed, but this being a Saturday, he expected quite a bit more before the day was done.

He had hardly reached the Main Stair when a voice caught his attention from the adjacent corridor.

"Grab a few more for questioning," a gruff voice said, sounding furious. "One of them is bound to know something about the Potter brat."

"Yes, sir," said a younger voice, brighter, more energetic. "Anything else, sir?"

"Keep a wary eye on the visitors today," the man muttered. "They're not with us, who knows who they will throw their support behind."

"Sir!" the young Guardsman said, running out of the hall and up the stairs as though his captain was lobbing blister charms in his wake.

Neville turned down the stairs, hoping to pass unnoticed. However, his hope was shortly dashed when a large hand took hold of his shoulder.

"You," growled the large man.

Neville could feel him hovering from behind, but he didn't need to turn to recognise the captain of the Guard. Even had he missed the conversation a moment before, he would have known from that singularly wolf-like voice.

"Captain," Neville said, turning to the man with a passable smile. "I hope you are having a good Saturday. I was just on my way to the-"

"I've seen you skulking around too much," Captain Rein said, sniffing. "Listening where you ought not."

"I was not listening," Neville insisted.

The older man waved off his comment with a brush of one large, gloved fist across Neville's chest.

"Be forewarned," Rein stated, even but harsh at the same time. "If I hear of any funny business involving you students, I will not be sending you off to detention. The Guard has its own … forms of punishment."

"Understood, perfectly," Neville said, looking the man in the eyes. He did, and it was a large part of why the DA had been revived.

Rein sneered, his grizzled chin forming a sinister shadow over the chest of his Ministry of Magic uniform. The additional medals from service, including one for services to Hogwarts, were difficult to make out. Only the sheer number of them was quite evident. The man wanted everyone to know exactly how decorated he had been. Whatever his service meant for what he was doing now.

"And we'll find that rebel you're all working so hard to pretend you don't know about," Rein said, his voice at its most dangerous. "A carrot to the one who brings him to me. A stick for those who aid him. Remember that."

"Yes," Neville said, letting his face brighten with an effort. "It would be such a crime if Voldemort were to get his way, take over the Ministry and set some ruffians over the school to instil his form of order on all of us. Keep up the good work, captain."

With that, Neville slipped out of the man's grip, ducking his head slightly and walking as quickly as he dared down the stairs. His last view of the man as he turned showed a man with a mixture of shock, anger and something thoughtful about him. Whatever the Guard actually knew about their true masters, Neville was certain this man knew who called the shots. He may have never met the man, but he was a servant of Voldemort through and through.

It felt a little good to be able to use You-Know-Who's name whenever he liked. It wasn't as though they could come after them in the school for it. The magical protections were far too strong. Sure, Captain Rein was in a position to do something, but he would probably only watch Neville more closely. That was as Neville wanted, anyway. The more they focused on him, the less they would think about bothering or harming everyone else. Neville could take it. An innocent little first year… Neville shuddered to think how they would fare.

He passed down to the ground level, unsure if the man was still watching him from above. He crossed the hall into the Great Hall, waving to a few Gryffindors leaving breakfast. In the Hall, the large House tables had been scrapped and replaced with a dozen or so small tables. They were still divided into Houses, but everyone was assigned to a cluster. Neville expected they thought it would make it more difficult to talk to people across their own House without someone noticing. They had no idea he had at least one person at most tables in the DA.

Neville scanned across, eyes pausing on a few of his fellow members. He acknowledged no one, but just took notice of their faces, their expressions and the level of fear in the room. Without hesitating too long, the boy headed to his table, grabbing a plate and piling it with eggs, beans, toast and bacon. The juice felt extra sweet on the way down, and he realised he was parched. After a couple glasses, he took a breath and a moment to really observe the others at his table.

Most of the seats were open, but a few seventh years chatted to the left. Most seventh years had stayed out of things. The people who had stayed to that year were mostly consumed with the difficulty of the NEWT level exam preparations. Neither of these two were with him, any case.

Ginny sat beside him. "How are you?" she asked, calmly but that did not extend to her eyes. "I heard you might have had some trouble."

"Nothing I can't handle," he said, cutting his bacon. He shook his head at the thought of the measures they had had to adopt. He couldn't even talk to people straight!

Ginny sighed. "Don't take everything on yourself," she whispered, masking the comment by wiping her clean mouth with a napkin. "He always does that and my brothers drive themselves nuts over it."

"The Guard are rounding up more," Neville said, coughing to cover the statement. "As an old professor would say, Constant-"

"Vigilance," she said, chuckling. "Well, I think we should have some fun, too. A couple of us were talking about a pick-up game in the Room and…"

"I might have someone who can help make that more than just a one off," Neville said, tapping his fork into his eggs. A chunk broke off and he stabbed it to eat.

Ginny smiled. "Here's hoping," she said. "A year is too long without it… two is just a tragedy."

"Here's hoping," he said.

He wasn't sure what all he was hoping for. There was too much too hope for, this year, and every bit of news he heard only made it seem worse.

"Mr. Longbottom," said a squeaky voice from behind him, "and Miss Weasley, excellent. I had wondered if I might borrow a moment of your time?"

"S-sure professor," Neville said, feeling that familiar twinge of anxiety strike. Were they in trouble already? He had only spoken with the captain a moment ago.

"We shall speak in my office, then," Flitwick said, leading the pair of them out.

Shrugging at Ginny, Neville put down his fork and followed. He walked the halls looking suitably chastened, hoping people would think the pair of them were serving a detention with the professor. Given everything that had happened lately, Neville couldn't be sure that they were not.

The journey was quick, though, and uneventful. Guard were scattered around the castle and moving, so you never could tell if you would run into a dozen or none on the way to anywhere. In this case, fortunately, the latter was correct. Flitwick closed the door behind them and took his seat behind the over-large desk for the very short man. He gestured to seats in front of the desk and smiled as they took them.

"This room is warded with protective charms," Flitwick said, "so we may speak freely. I'm very sorry to pull you both away like this, but it is difficult to find any time to speak where there are not Guard present. I understood there was a change in shifts with some visitors coming, so this was the best I could do."

"What is this about, professor?" Neville asked.

"We have recently had a very serious situation arise," Flitwick said. "Certain acquaintances of yours discovered the source of the barrier around the whole of Britain. It has been removed."

"That is great news," Neville said, smiling.

"Professor," Ginny said, almost on top of him, "why did you say it was a serious situation?"

"Because," Flitwick said, "The artefact which enabled the barrier, we believe is a key artefact of the school, and one that our mutual acquaintance believes was stolen from the Room of Requirement."

"From the Room?" Ginny asked. "I don't understand. The Room has whatever you want in it."

"That's right," Neville said. "Whatever you need it will make real."

"It is possible," Flitwick replied, "that this artefact is part of what allows the Room to function. And if one was stolen…"

"You want to make sure nothing else was taken," Neville said.

"Correct," Flitwick said. "It came to my attention from certain brothers… whom shall remain nameless… that you two might have an idea how a certain professor could enter the Room and check." He hesitated. "I … won't ask how or why you are using it, if you are. I would rather not know if anyone asks. However, the safety of the school and the protection of its students could be at stake."

Neville and Ginny exchanged a look.

"I think we might be able to work something out for you, professor," Ginny replied, smiling.


	30. Chapter 30: The Visitor

Severus Snape was in a foul mood. He had stormed around the castle snapping at any student who so much as looked at him sideways. His day had begun in anger, and it continued so as he prepared for the visitors. Why any of those blundering fools at the Ministry had chosen to allow some foreigner to review their facilities to see how well they ran things was beyond him.

He swept back into his office, the Headmaster's office, to thud into the old chair that so many Headmasters had used over the centuries. His gaze flowed over the paintings above him, seeking out the last Slytherin Headmaster. The man was sickly ingratiating towards Snape. He had been a disgraced Headmaster, loathed by his students, and in that, Snape found someone who might understand him somewhat.

However, the pane was empty. Phineas had probably run off to check on his old home. The man nattered on about it like an old crone when he wasn't bemoaning the students for their idiocy. Still, in Snape's mood, the nattering could be soothing, like a background noise that meant nothing at all to him. Instead…

"Severus!" cried a frantic voice from behind the door. Knocking followed, of course. It always did.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice a dull drone even in his ears. He simply could not summon the energy to indulge insipid people just now.

The door opened, revealing a beleaguered Peter Pettigrew, once fugitive, now primary emissary for the Minister to the school. Outside of having the Guard marching the corridors, only his presence had made Snape's purgatory worse. He was doing what he had long dreamt of, running the school, but in no way as he might have wished.

"Severus," Peter said, practically grovelling his way to the desk, "you haven't answered my last owl! The visitors will be along and I hadn't heard if-"

"I am perfectly aware you are bringing guests," Snape said, fighting to flatten his voice. Anger was not what was needed here. "And all will be attended to, as our Minister wishes. I have simply been too busy seeing to the arrangements to respond as yet. Your owl did say he would be here for Tea, yes?"

"Well, yes," Peter said, "but the Minister was demanding updates. These Americans are most insistent. They are over the moon with how they can evolve our methods for Ilvermorny. And to think, we weren't sure of any allies ready to stand with us after the changes. The Americans! My gods. What luck, eh?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Snape replied, dryly. "It has been lovely to see you. I wager the Minister would love to hear the news and-"

"Oh, but-" Peter replied. "The Minister has someone outside for me to send back with the message. He has ordered me to remain and see that everything is perfect. What have we got, so far?"

Snape sighed, disguising it by sweeping up a parchment with the day's plans. "The Guard are going to do a grand showcase in the courtyard," he began, zoning out as he droned through the plans.

Peter stood rapt, listening and nodding at each, his eyes drinking in a visual Snape didn't care to see himself. It was all rather ridiculous in his view. Still, what the Minister wanted…

"… so, if you really must assist," he said, "you can check in on the house elves first off. The Guard have had direct instructions from the Minister and the professors have just scattered to their offices from the lounge not twenty minutes ago for their own parts. They are all more than capable of each request, I am sure. We are regrouping in the lounge on the hour." He pulled an old, scarred pocket watch out of his robes to check the time. "You can speak with each of them then. Perhaps they will need some individual assistance…"

Some hours later, Snape's head felt like a hammer upon the anvil. Peter had flitted about him like an errant mayfly, incessantly looking for something useful he could do. As if the man had ever done a useful day's work in his life. Still, his employer was not one to be trifled with, and their master any less. Snape breathed a sigh of relief after Peter rushed off to meet the visitors as the Guard presented their colours. He would see them a little after, meeting them inside and dining in a private space to discuss the intricacies of the school's operation.

The students were dining and would be escorted swiftly to their dormitories while the visitors dined. No … unfortunate students would be wandering the halls in the interim. Why they couldn't have done this at the Ministry, Snape could not for the life of him understand. They had better facilities for hosting and the Minister could be there to dash about in his gallant way. If there was one positive, it was that the Minister had had to bow out due to affairs of state.

After he had sat for a dozen or so minutes, finally breathing normally after the rush of the day, Snape stood, glancing back up at the previous Slytherin Headmaster. Phineas was back in his panel, but asleep. Whatever advice he might have given would have been punctuated with irritation and cries of anger at being awakened. Letting the dead man fall from his thoughts, Snape strode through the door of the Headmaster's study and down to the Entrance Hall.

As he had expected, no one was to be seen, not a hint that anyone had been nearby, in fact. He had ordered the house elves to scrub every centimetre of the path the visitors would pass through the school. That uppity leader one, Vinken, had not liked that at all. Snape scowled at the memory. That a house elf would dare question the Headmaster's orders, it was unheard of! They would have words… later. That was another figure he thrust out of his mind.

The Entrance Hall door opened just as he stepped down the last steps of the Grand Staircase. Pettigrew was bowing low and gesturing inward to someone just out of sight. Snape stepped forward, keeping his back straight, his face in its most ingratiating smile - a thing he detested and could not wait to wipe from his face. Then, he saw the man, the wizard, that was to be his dinner guest.

The wizard was tall, over middle aged and rotund, taking ponderous steps as he entered. His eyes were hidden under bushy eyebrows as his tanned, rough face looked about the space. His robes were silver in a loose style, but in a finely decorated, decidedly well-made and by a meticulous robe maker. A crest Snape presumed was for Ilvermorny was somewhat buried beneath a broad, speckled grey beard that matched his thinning hair.

"Andrew Patterson," Snape began, letting his voice ring in the space, "I, Severus Snape, welcome you to Hogwarts."

"Ah, just the man, just the man," the wizard named Andrew said, stepping forward with more speed than Snape would have thought possible. He seized Snape's hand in his own, nearly crushing it with the force. With an extra, profound shake, he released it as his left hand came around to slap Snape's shoulder. "I've heard mighty nice things about you, Severus. Can I call ya Severus?"

"Yes," Snape replied, fighting to keep his pleasant smile on a face that was contracting, quite naturally, with dislike. "If you wish. And-"

"Call me Andy, then," Andrew said. "Everybody else does. This is a fine school, a fine school. She's a beeeeaut!"

"Why, thank you," Snape said. "We have food prepared upstairs. Would you care to join me for tea and conversation? I understand you have taken an interest in how we operate?"

Snape had skipped half the pleasantries he and Peter had worked out in advance, but he had needed to do something. If he tried to look so calm and happy for much longer, his face might have cracked. Peter shot him a look, but the visitor just laughed.

"Straight to the point!" Andy cried. "I like your grit, Severus. I like a man who can get right to it. We'll take a chair, sip some of that fine fire-brandy or what's it you lot call it over here, and talk like men. Lead on!"

With another slap on his shoulder, Andy beamed at Snape like they were closest of mates. Snape really could not quite understand it, but he had not had much interaction with American wizards. They had different ways, to be sure, but none he had met to date was quite like… this. Biting his cheek to keep focused, Snape renewed his smile for the man and gestured up the stairs.

For whatever reason, the Minister's orders had requested a specific room on the seventh floor. It was too near to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tower entrances for Snape's liking, but the Minister had left no room for adjustment. It also had provided no rhyme or reason for the specificity of the requests. Few outside of current staff and students were likely to even remember that particular room existed, and those who did only because they passed it daily. Much disused, the room had been not been used for classes - or much else - since before Snape had started his own studies.

Most did not seem to notice or care, but Snape had - at times - wondered at the Hogwarts that had been when all of the rooms were in use. It hadn't been, not in centuries, but how many students may they once have had that would require that many rooms? He knew of at least five forgotten professor's studies and bedrooms that dotted the castle. Who knew how many others there might be?

"The castle," Snape began, trying to cut in before the other man could start talking, "was formed over one thousand years ago by two wizards and two witches, renowned for their skill and achievements in their day. Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff and, of course, Salazar Slytherin created the building and the many spells that manage its day to day operations. As you can see, above, a number of the staircases move. Additionally, the torches and other elements are magically controlled. No witch or wizard has had to recast these spells in living history. It is considered quite a marvel, and many of the worlds greatest researchers have desired to visit and study the castle.

"You are one of the very few privileged to enter its halls," Snape said, bowing slightly as he walked.

"It's quite an' honour," the man said, pursing his lips as he watched the nearby portraits whisper to each other while they passed. "She's quite a fine lady, this castle."

Snape ignored the last, nodding and continuing. "The Founders created a House for new students to join. In those days, the Founders themselves would teach the students of their own choosing. Sometime afterwards, of course, we have done away with that stricture. Our professors teach their subjects of expertise and all classes contain students of at least two Houses. The Houses have remained, an element of age-old tradition and points of pride as they strive to contribute to their Houses' success over the others in a yearly competition.

"Ilvermorny has her own traditions, to be sure," Andy said, chuckling. "Why, once… we had a competition for corrallin' varmint Magical Beasts. Nearly tore the school in half tryin' ta catch the nastier ones. We've got a more, what you'd say, subdued version ta this day. Haha!"

"Traditions must be… evaluated," Snape said, recalling the words the Minister liked to use, "for the betterment of the students."

"Too right, you are, Severus," the man laughed. "Could you imagine chasing acromantulas and whatnot through the halls? It'd be chaos is what it'd be."

"I expect you are right," Snape said, fighting very hard to keep his face calm. Everything about the man infuriated him. How was this a benefit to the Ministry, again? "Right this way, we are dining in a room off to the left."

He led the man into the room, bowing him in and sighing as he took hold of the door. No one was outside the room, also at Minister's orders. The Guard, a constant presence, had had their show for the man downstairs, and would escort him back to Hogsmeade on the way out. Snape almost wished they were stationed outside. That might help remind him not to wrap the man up in ropes and send him flying down the hall.

As he shut the door, he said, "Dinner will be up in a mo-"

He had turned into the room and saw - not the large American - but a thin, smiling Albus Dumbledore, his eyes at a full twinkle.

"Albus?" he asked.

Albus chuckled, flicking his wand. "There, we should not be observed, now," he said. "My other precautions should suffice, but one had better be safer than sorry, old friend."

"Albus," Snape said, still gaping, "you shouldn't have come. The Ministry- The Guard… Everyone is looking for you! You, yourself, set the restriction against anyone coming here excepting staff…"

"I am aware of that, Severus," Albus said, putting a gentle hand on Snape's shoulder. "This, however, is more important than anything we might have foreseen when I set those guidelines."

Snape took a deep breath, silently fuming. The man never changed. Everything was a hard rule except when he decided it was not. Setting his face in a calm expression, he asked, "What is it that you need, Head-"

"Call me, Albus," Dumbledore replied, curtly. "You are the Headmaster, at present. However it has happened, it is your title. Wear it with pride, and do honour to the school."

"That is hardly easy, given the circumstances," Snape pointed out, feeling that same distaste for his state.

"We cannot choose all things to our liking," Albus said. "Else I would not be here at this moment. It would be better if I had no reason for it."

"Well, what is the reason, Albus?" Snape said. "You've taken a great risk and your premise will fall apart the moment the Ministry follows up with the fictional figure you have taken on."

"On the contrary," Dumbledore said, "Andrew Patterson is quite real. He's a long acquaintance of mine after an ex-student traveled often in the Americas helping Magical Creatures. I may not have captured his mannerisms perfectly, but Andrew is aware of my forgery, in this case. He will help maintain your cover."

"Then, what is it all for?" Snape asked. "You've gone to quite some efforts, clearly."

"One which could tear down the very foundations of the school, Severus," Dumbledore said. "It seems, Voldemort has stolen a tree from the very heart of the school, one which created that powerful barrier they used to trap people inside of Britain."

"I heard that had fallen," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "That was you?"

"Only partly," Dumbledore said, waving his hand in humility. "Young Mr. Potter and Miss Granger discovered and recovered the tree."

"And what does a tree have to do with the foundations of the school?" Snape asked, frowning. Those two had caused far too much trouble, from the sound of things. Had they caused this?

"As Harry tells it," Albus said, "he found a place of protection in the Room of Requirement. It had four trees of varying and blinding hues. I have seen the one, and none of the others, myself. He is certain the one we have belongs there and was taken from it. It is my theory, Severus, that these were planted by the Founders to enable the school to do much of what it has done. As you, my unwitting tour guide, noted, the castle is quite a marvel. We know very little of it. But, I suspect, that the longer the tree is without the others, it may fade and die. What that will do to the castle, I cannot say? What did it control? Are the others trying to sustain the school without their fellow? How long can that be sustained?"

"If you are right," Severus said, "and I am loathe to believe something so fanciful even in a place as powerful as Hogwarts, what do you need of me?"

"We must find a way to bring the tree to the room," Albus said.

"Is that not the room that was accessible only from the seventh floor corridor filled with Guard soldiers day and night?" Severus asked.

"Filius is looking into the entrance to the room," Albus said. "And he will come to you when he has access. The pair of you will need to find a way to get a tree from outside in. Filius has offered to coordinate inside and out, but you needed to understand the gravity of it."

"But surely he could have brought me this news?" Snape said. "I have free access to speak with professors as I wish."

"Not freely," Albus said. "You have less freedom than you may believe. Contacts within the Ministry have informed me that your office, the lounge, and each of your colleagues' offices have been under constant monitoring since the year began. Speech in the hall can never be certain, and two staff wandering the grounds together would draw suspicious eyes."

Stricken, Snape felt fury grow inside again. "They trust like two-headed vipers," he uttered.

"Quite so," Albus said. "I know you and Flitwick will find some way to communicate simply. He knows I am having this open conversation tonight. Watch your words, and ward your speech as you sleep. Trust none that you do not know to be trustworthy already. Even the Minister does not have the Guard's true loyalty."

"Yes, Albus," Snape said, taking it all in. "Tell me… how are things, outside?"

"Let us not waste this dinner," Albus said, gesturing to the food newly steaming on the table top. "I have questions of my own, as you might expect."

Nodding, Snape led the way to the table and the pair spoke, long into the evening.


	31. Chapter 31: Concealed and Revealed

Harry Potter stood on the platform, looking around uncertainly. He had rarely taken a train in his life, but never had he seen a station as abandoned as this one. The stones were worn with centuries of rain and traffic. It would take that sort of time to really make an impact, given how infrequently people caught trains from here. It was a pretty insular area.

Despite the quiet, he felt on edge, though. If anyone had passed nearby, he would stand out. No one waited for a train that was not coming. The only thing that would make him feel more nervous was the arrival of a train. There shouldn't be one for months.

He wore his robes with his hood up, but it did nothing to reduce the autumnal chill that he had long known. The lightest breeze whipping through the hills was enough to send a shiver through his limbs. If he could be sure no one would notice, Harry might use a little magic to warm the area around him. However, Dumbledore's instructions had been very specific. He couldn't remove the necklace, at the moment, in any case. If they were looking for him right now, his position would be exposed. The last thing any of them needed was exposure.

Necklace aside, Harry patted his pocket, feeling the comforting shape of his wand within it. He resisted the urge to hold it, leaving it hidden. It was useless with the necklace on, of course, but the less he moved, the better. They should be here soon. He hoped so.

A bird called, a soft, distant, bark-like call. Harry found his eyes scanning the skies. An eagle swept from one hilltop to the west, disappearing behind trees to the northwest. It hadn't circled or even noticed him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Not just any animal was an animagus, but any could be. A sharp crack sounded, turning him to a newly-appeared figure on the platform.

"I can't believe they've got us on watch," muttered Fred, plopping down on a bench without looking about.

"It's part of the job," Harry said, shrugging. "I take it, they are coming?"

"Should be," Fred said, looking up. "I just wish they'd gone for the distraction idea."

"I think the Ministry might wonder why a thousand frogs suddenly hopped through the town," Harry said. "We don't want them to -"

"Know we were here at all," Fred grumbled. "I know. And Georgie gets one of the fun jobs!"

"I'm not sure he thinks of it that way," Harry said. "And I'm not sure any of this would fall under your fun category, really."

"Yeah, fireworks," Fred said. "How hard would that have been to integrate into the plan? People love them!"

Harry smiled, shaking his head at his good friend. "No matter what," he said, "you two will never change."

"Like you do?" Fred asked, laughing. "Harry, mate… I'm just surprised you didn't ask for a more dangerous job."

"Dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Like, diving out of the a tower while battling dementors into a pool of Grindylows," Fred said.

Harry chuckled. "I've never done anything like that!" he protested.

"Yet!" Fred commented. "If it had the slightest chance of making someone else safer, though…"

"I can't see how it would," Harry said, looking at the other incredulously.

"Maybe it wasn't a perfect example," Fred said, dusting off his robes with his right hand. "I reckon Hermione'd prefer you keep yourself a might bit safer, eh?"

"She's as committed to stopping this as anyone," Harry said.

Fred shook his head, but he didn't comment. "How are you two doing, anyway?" he asked

"Fine," Harry replied. "I mean, it's not like we can go to Hogsmeade together or anything like…"

"No," Fred said, smiling thinly and shaking his head. "I mean, how are you doing? With all this going on. You should be at school and not … well, less focused on all this mess going on. You can't even go there, much less…"

"Oh," Harry replied, frowning. "I can't speak for Hermione, but it's, well, not easy. Hogwarts has been my home for most of my life. Even coming close is a harsh reminder of that. It's good to have Hermione around, and the Order visits fairly regularly, so we're not completely isolated. But, what's with getting serious all of the sudden? That's very unlike the Fred I know."

"We Weasley twins are subtle, complex beings," Fred said.

Harry stifled a laugh and Fred made a face, as though he were offended, even putting his hand on his chest.

"Just because we like to, shall I say, liven things up," Fred replied to the implied response, "does not mean we are not aware of things like this. George and I have had to adjust to a new home, too, under a lot better circumstances than yours, I might add. If it's been an adjustment for us, I can't even imagine for the pair of you."

"She won't say it," Harry said, furrowing his brow, "but I think it's a lot harder for Hermione than for me. She's lost not only her home and school, but her parents were whisked away to some safe place she can't even know about. At least, I know roughly where my friends are or how to reach them. She can't and … well, I know she doesn't want to talk about it. I'm not even sure how best to bring it up."

"Well, if anyone's got a chance, it's you," Fred said, his voice more solemn, and understanding, than Harry had ever heard it. He looked down at the young man sitting forward on the bench, seeing Fred look at him so closely, seriously. If the topic weren't so serious, Harry would have expected it all to be a big joke on him.

"Thanks," he said. "I feel like things hardly ever settle down enough to talk about non-pressing things. Except, it feels like something we need to talk about."

"I don't know much about all that," Fred admitted, shrugging. "You're in deeper relationship waters than either George or I have cared yet to swim, but I do know Hermione trusts you. She and you both rely on each other quite a lot."

Harry nodded. He opened his mouth, but a nearby meow warned the pair that someone was approaching. Fred hopped up, his hand going to his pocket, but he did not draw his wand as a familiar cat stepped onto the platform. In a flash, the cat transformed into Professor McGonagall.

"Have you heard from them?" she asked, looking between the two.

"They sent me on ahead to make sure the station was defended well," Fred said, adding, "professor," as an afterthought.

McGonagall gave him a thin smile. "I'm afraid plans have changed, somewhat," she said, addressing both of them. "We'll need the pair of you at the Shrieking Shack to meet them. There are patrols on this side of Hogsmeade preventing them from coming directly through."

"The shack?" Fred asked. "But, won't that put them into the grounds? I thought they were trying to go through Honeydukes."

"That is being seen to, Mr. Weasley," she said, sternly. "There are no easy ways into the school."

"Thanks, Professor," Harry said. "We'll get over there."

McGonagall nodded, turning back towards the ramp. "Oh, and take care, both of you," she said before transforming back into a cat and running off.

"That always freaked me out a bit," Fred said after their old professor had gone out of earshot.

"What does?" Harry asked.

"She could be sneaking around at any time as a cat," Fred said, gesturing the way she had gone. "Hard to get away with pranks when someone like her might be watching."

"Didn't seem to stop you much," Harry commented.

"Well, yeah, of course not," Fred said, scratching his ginger hair. "Still, it was always in the back of our minds, I'll tell you. More of a danger than Mrs. Norris and Filch. If Mrs. Norris saw you, you had time to huff it before he showed. If the professor saw you, she didn't need anyone to show up…"

Harry laughed. "You two had very different worries from the rest of us in Hogwarts. Come on, we need to get to the shack."

"Like you had more normal worries," Fred scoffed, following Harry, regardless.

They left the station, and Harry didn't spare the empty place any remaining thoughts. The wind lessened as they descended from the higher point, but Harry could still hear it all around them and felt a residual fluttering in his hair. The pair moved quickly, but in a circumspect way, slipping through the trees to circle around the village. Even if he wasn't doing magic, Harry could be recognised by a passerby. He was too well known here, particularly.

The shack was a little off the beaten path, and hardly ever visited by the villagers of Hogsmeade. He knew that the tales of its haunting were untrue, but few others knew the truth behind its origin. Harry suspected that the locals encouraged the idea to draw in tourists. They went out of their way to leave it decrepit, let the vegetation flourish just enough to appear abandoned, but not so much that visitors could lose sight of the shack itself.

This was a week day, and in the midst of a Hogwarts term, so he expected no one would be about the Shrieking Shack, at least, whatever might be going on in the village itself. The village, too, as far as Harry could hear, was hushed. He wondered how active it remained when students were away. The various shops thrived on Hogsmeade weekends, but now?

Fred was frowning as they walked, but he said nothing. Harry expected he was worried about something. Maybe George? Harry rarely saw one without the other, and here they were, separated in this mission. For all their bluster and ridiculous antics, the pair were very dedicated to each other, and their friends, of course.

They had to cross near one line of buildings to avoid walking too deeply in the woods around the village. Old, dusted up windows faced them, and Harry saw no lights coming from between or within. Still, they proceeded cautiously, even Fred's expression was more concentrated as they went. The pair had nearly reached the end of the row when a voice startled him.

"Quite an interesting sight to find on a trip to the wheelie bin, indeed," an old man said, the voice both stern and amused at once. "It's not every day a wanted child stumbles into your neighbourhood."

Harry forgot that he had the necklace on, drawing a useless wand on the man. Fred pulled a much more useful wand beside his, nearly as quickly. The old man facing them, however, did not make a move for his own. In the shadows of the building beside them, Harry could make out a long beard, dark robes, and little else. The voice, itself, was not familiar.

"Who are you?" Fred asked.

"Usually the trespasser is expected to answer that, lad," the older man grumbled. "If you're trying to avoid notice, you could not have done worse, I'd say."

"You seem to know who I am," Harry said. "Let that suffice for us. Who are you? Are you with You-Know-Who? The Ministry?"

"Neither, lad," the man said, his voice sounding affronted. "Everything is us and them with youth. Well, and some older children. My brother seems no better these days."

"That doesn't answer the question," Fred said, not letting the man continue rambling.

"Call me Aberforth," the man said. "If you want, we can talk more quietly in my pub. We'll have no visitors on a day like this, I'll wager."

"We have somewhere to be, Mr. Aberforth," Harry said. The name rang a bell, but he couldn't quite place it.

"And you don't need to know where," Fred said, firming his grip on his wand.

"Look," Aberforth said, shaking his head. "Wherever you're trying to go all quietly, you're putting a giant target on it by going there. Your friends will thank you for not being there."

"We're going-" Fred began as Harry spoke.

"What do you mean target?" Harry asked, feeling a wave of fear.

"I expect its you they've rigged up to repel magic, lad?" he asked, stepping forward into the light, his piercing blue eyes looking deep into Harry's. "The Trace what they're worried about?"

"Yes," Harry said, furrowing his brow at the man's knowledgeable question.

Fred gave Harry a late warning look, but appeared just as concerned about what the man knew.

"No better way to broadcast your position," Aberforth said. "Might as well shoot up sparklers every step you take."

"But magic can't sense it," Harry said.

"And they'd have to be looking around here for anything to notice the gap," Fred said.

"Maybe at first, redhead," Aberforth said, "until they realise people are using anti-magic cloaking. From the rumours I've heard at my pub, they've gotten more than a whiff of your anti-magic protections. It gives off a magical resonance that can be detected for hundreds of kilometres, if you're looking for it. A simple charm would point them right to you. Now, take the fool thing off and come inside."

"How can we trust you?" Fred asked, stepping in front of Harry protectively.

"You can't," the man said, "but I expect a dozen Aurors will be here in moments, and I can hide you better, for a moment, so you can flee back to the cozy chateau Albus has put you up at. No doubt it is luxurious, easy going living."

The man snorted to himself, turning about and leading off down the alley. Harry exchanged a look with Fred, frowning. Fred held up his wand and pointed at Harry's. Together they could surely take one old man, if they needed to. Nodding, Harry took off his necklace, tucking it into his pocket and gripping his wand more tightly.

"Sure is a grumpy old man, isn't he?" Fred muttered as they followed.

"Seems familiar, though," Harry said, frowning.

"He runs the Hog's Head pub," Fred said.

When Harry gave him a look, Fred shrugged.

"Georgie and I have explored all of Hogsmeade on our trips here," he said. "I didn't recognise the man until he stepped closer, though.

The man waved them quickly into a house nearby, and ushered them downstairs into a cellar. Banging struck the door upstairs, and he only put a finger to his lips as he rushed back upwards. Harry and Fred stood at the edge of the cellar, wands drawn and ready to fight. The slow creak of the old man's steps - exaggerated in slowness, Harry thought, the only sound to break the repeated sounds of fists upon the front door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," the man growled as his steps became more faint. "One second, hold on, will ya? I don't have a young man's speed anymore."

A door opened above, and Harry could hear a blast of the wind from without. That did not diminish the harsh voice that followed it.

"Have you seen either of these two?" a man's voice asked. "They are wanted fugitives and considered very dangerous. Your family could be killed by unstable dark wizards such as these."

"Children dark wizards?" Aberforth replied, chuckling. "Why, I never knew I'd see the day. Did they take a lolly from Honeydukes without paying?"

"Have you seen them?" the voice demanded.

"I haven't seen a couple of scamps running around Hogsmeade," Aberforth grumbled. "Children are in school up the road, if you want to find any. None are fool enough to be running about here, much less fugitives. Hogsmeade isn't exactly an easy place to hide."

"He hasn't seen them, captain," said another man.

"Quiet," the first - the captain - said. "I don't like your attitude, old man. Sounds like you have something to hide."

"Just surprised they're sending Aurors out for truancy," Aberforth laughed. "Search away, if you like. I've nothing to hide but some firewhisky from the local drunks. If you're up for a tipple, first round's on the house for such upstanding officials as yourselves."

"We have no time for refreshments," the captain growled. "If you see them, do not engage. Send an owl or flag down a guard. That goes for your brother, too, I might add. He's still on our list."

"I have had nothing to do with him for an age," Aberforth said. "Bad blood amongst family is the worst kind."

"Hmm," said the guard. "So you say… often. Just remember, if the Ministry finds otherwise, you will wish your blood had betrayed you long ago. Let's head out."

The door closed and a slow stumping sound followed it. After a few minutes, Aberforth appeared at the top of the stairs, and he walked slowly down to where they were. Harry could see Fred's face was as ashen as his felt. The older man, however, had a general frown, but looked no more alarmed by what had transpired than had he told someone what they had on order at the bar.

"So," Aberforth said, slowly lowering himself into a chair just inside the cellar, "what has that old fool got you doing, now?"


	32. Chapter 32: Through the Tunnel

"Where are they?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"Maybe they went inside the shack?" George asked. "Professor McGonagall said they would meet us here."

"It looks undisturbed," she said, frowning at the grounds of the shack. "I'm not so sure…"

"How on earth are we meant to fit this thing into the shack?" George asked, gesturing with his free hand at the hovering invisibility cloak. "I thought it had no working doors seeing as they didn't want anyone investigating why there was shrieking inside."

"I think Dumbledore had someone fix the front door," Hermione said. "He said to trust him, leastways."

George grumbled something about old batty wizards and crazy ideas. Hermione shook her head, chuckling.

Hermione had seen them wrap the cloak carefully around the tree, amazed it had actually managed to conceal its light fully. None of the conventional cloaks around had been big enough, but Dumbledore had reached a gifted magical weaver in central Italy that had made him exactly what they needed. It made Harry's invisibility cloak look like a napkin, by way of comparison.

"Carefully," she said, chuckling at his bemused look. Then, she said, "We'll just turn it on its side and slide it through the door."

"But once inside?" he asked.

"Dumbledore has a plan," she said, as much for herself as George. "I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

"Fine," he said. "Let's get it in there. We don't want to be seen walking about out here. No one loiters at the shack for long."

Hermione led the way up the dirt - and mostly weed - path to the shack, lowering the tree onto its side. With an effort they managed to open the door. The wood looked warped and brittle, but the lock had nearly rusted together. George joined her after her first attempt, and it took a further three shoulders to make the door budge.

"Hang on," she said, stepping into the shack. "I'll make sure we have space to move."

She kept her wand out, holding the tree in the air outside, while she stepped inward, looking about for anything that would get in the way.

"Blast," she said. "There's a large wardrobe in the way. Why would someone put…?"

"Oi! What are you doing up there?" asked a stern, distant but still carrying voice from outside the shack.

"M-me?" George asked, trying to sound innocent and calm.

A crunch of footsteps came up the yard to the door. George had pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Hermione in the dark with the wardrobe. She tiptoed behind it, but kept her wand steady. The tree was invisible but still very heavy. If that fell to the ground near this newcomer, there was no chance it would be missed. She kept it still, not letting it shift a centimeter. Who knew where the newcomer would stand? Hopefully George would help block the way.

"Yes, you," said the voice, hard and close now. Hermione was sure she could hear the man's breathing. "What are you doing here?"

"I was… I was just … er-" George began.

"Hey, you're one of the Weasley Wheezes guys, right?" asked another voice.

"Yeah," George said, recovering. "We're thinking about opening up another branch in Hogsmeade, and I was just wondering if the Shrieking Shack would make a good spot."

"You want to open a shop in a haunted house?" the first voice asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

"Sure," George replied, brightly. "No one else would do it, so that's the perfect reason to do it."

"Wouldn't that scare away customers?" asked the second voice.

"Nah," George exclaimed, laughing. "It could be part of the experience! Come for the scares, leave with some of our wares. Eh? Maybe the line needs some work, but we'll get there."

"The building isn't safe," the first voice said. "You should stay away from it."

"No problem, sir," George said. "I was just checking it out from the outside, but I'll stay clear."

"Hey, you haven't seen a pair of students out here?" the other man asked.

"Students?" George asked, sounding confused. "Not today. I expect they'll have another Hogsmeade weekend in a few weeks yet."

"They're student aged," the man in charge said, unfolding some parchment as far as Hermione could hear. "But they're fugitives from the Ministry. I seem to recall you and your brother are known to affiliate with them. Yes?"

"I… I knew them," George said, sounding down. "But everyone knows they disappeared near the end of the last school year. No one has seen them since. I hope they're alright."

"Aiding a fugitive from the Ministry," the first said, sounding harsh, "is an offence under Ministry law. If you and your brother are harbouring them…"

"They have not been in our shop," George said. "And I told you no one has seen them. I'm sure whatever is wrong is just some misunderstanding. They're school-age for Circe's sake. I know the Ministry will want them safely back at their desks as much as I do."

"Just because they are young does not mean they are defenceless," the man growled. "I understand the boy duelled with the Minister himself and blocked everything the Minister threw at him. I'm sure the Minister was taking it easy, but… he is a master duelist. And we have reason to believe they recently attempted to steal an important artefact from the Ministry"

"I heard they both Apparated out of Hogwarts in front of the Minister," the younger man said. "No one can do that. That was after leading an attack on the Triwizard Tournament. It was a major international incident on top of everything else…"

"You mean the fight between the Silver Scions and the Death Eaters?" George asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure we're all happy the Ministry stepped in before that all got out of hand, but surely you don't think two children run one of those groups?"

"You seem to have some very strong opinions about this," the elder growled. "Maybe you'd like to repeat all of that to the Minister?"

George made no sound that he was bothered by the implication. "Just the observations of a gag shop owner," he said. "The Ministry will work out the truth, no doubt."

"That is our job, eh?" the younger man said.

"We've wasted enough time here," the harsh man said, dismissive. "The tip said they would be in the village. Go find them. And you… if you hear even a peep out of the pair, you tell us, immediately. They're dangerous, no matter what you may think. We'll sort out the truth."

The crunching sounds began and slowly dimmed as the pair walked back down to the gate. Hermione waited with bated breath. George made no sound from without. The wind outside made a rushing noise that sounded creepy within the empty, abandoned house. Hermione fought the urge to rush to the door to check. If those others from the Ministry were out there still, they might hear or notice anything out of place.

After an eternity, the door opened and George slipped inside, pulling the door shut quickly behind him.

"Hermione?" he whispered.

"I'm here," she said, glancing around the wardrobe. "Are they gone?"

"Yeah," he said, "they've gone back into the village, but we had best get out of here soon. I'm sure they will not buy any story if I'm still up here when they walk back by."

"What about Harry?" she asked, feeling that welling of fear within.

"He and Fred can take care of themselves," George said. "If we go looking for them, that will double up the chance of them catching all of us. That they haven't arrives tells me that they already know the Aurors are here and are hiding or had to head back to London."

"Those were Aurors?" Hermione asked, eyes widening. "What are they doing here?"

"Looking for you two, evidently," George said. "I don't know how, but the best thing we can do is get the tree delivered as soon as possible and get out of here."

"Yeah… right," Hermione said, looking towards the door, the village. Harry had to be alright. "Okay. Let's get the tree in here, then we have to find that tunnel. Can you move that wardrobe? I'm keeping the tree aloft."

"Got it," George said, levitating the wardrobe with a swift, "Wingardium Leviosa."

It thudded down heavily launching a cloud of dust into the air. This dissipated after a second, but Hermione could hear George cough before it had fully gone.

"Sorry," George said, approaching one of the front while dusting his hands.

He glance through a slot eyeing the landscape without. "I think we're all clear out front," he said, coughing once more as he finished.

Hermione opened the door, and levitated the already floating tree through the door and into the centre of what had probably been someone's living room. George shut the door behind her. With the exposure of the door finished, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Getting rid of this tree would be a burden done.

"Where's the trapdoor?" she asked, looking around.

"I think it's over there somewhere," George said, pointing to a dark corner with a table. "It's been a while since we snuck in here."

"You two snuck in here?" she asked. "How? Isn't the Whomping Willow on the other side?"

"Oh, the Willow's a real sweetie when you get to know her," George said, chuckling.

"You're joking, right?" she asked, trying to make out his face in the darkness. "I've seen it hit a bird that landed on the ground near it."

"And where are birds suppose to land?" George asked. "In branches, of course. The Willow just didn't want to be ignored."

"You are unbelievable," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"I found it!" George called out, tugging on a piece of wood on the floor. A large piece rose up, leading into a tunnel, a very tight tunnel.

"This could be… interesting," Hermione said.

"We just need to get it to the other side," George said. "They'll have someone there to take it to the school."

"It won't levitate very well in there," Hermione said. "We may have to hold both ends to keep it from scraping the top or the bottom."

"Manual work?" he asked, looking shocked at his hands. "But my delicate shop fingers!"

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, yeah," she managed after it dissipated. "You'll live. It should only be for a short distance. You said it opens up a bit as you go, right?"

"No, it opens at the end," George said. "It's really low to the ground the whole way."

"Oh," Hermione said, frowning. "Well, nothing for it. Should I go first? Protect your shop fingers from whatever is at the end?"

"No, no," George said, throwing a hand dramatically across his forehead. "I will risk it! Harry would kill me if I let you run into something at the end without letting myself stumble over it first."

Hermione shook her head. "Then, go ahead, noble shop fingers."

George bowed, sweeping an imaginary hat. "Now, where's the end of this tree?"

Hermione pointed to the end closest to the trapdoor, and walked around to the other side. She took her end and watched for George to get a firm grip.

"Ready?" she asked. "I'm going to release the spell."

"Ready as I will ever be," he said, taking a tight grip on the end.

Then, she released the spell and pocketed her wand. Both she and George dipped as the additional weight struck their hands. She had remembered the tree was heavy, but not quite this bad. They walked a little bow-legged to the trapdoor, George managing better than Hermione, even though he had the thicker base of the tree. She merely grunted as he placed the end on the ground before the trap door and lowered himself into the hole.

He pulled it forward and Hermione followed, carefully stepping into the hole. The darkness around them was quite heavy. George lit his wand but that seemed dim with the distance between them.

"Hold on," Hermione said. "I should shut the trapdoor, just in case."

She set the end of the tree down, reached for the door and closed it above her head. Then, fully bent over, Hermione lit her wand in her right hand and picked up the end of the tree, cradling it in her arm as best she could. No matter how she tried to shift it, it always felt a little uneven with George's end. The bobbing that began as they stepped made it no better.

The pair began the long trek under the earth, step by step. Often, she felt as though the ceiling was pressing her down and down closer to the ground. Constantly, she heard a light scraping as either one side or the other of her end of the tree began to touch the ground or earthen ceiling. She adjusted her handhold up and down almost every step.

The light helped show a pace or two ahead, and George's showed little more ahead. Still, it was less claustrophobic than no light surely would have been. They continued on, and Hermione felt the weight start to pull on her arms. Her legs managed the steps forward, but at a gradually slower pace.

Her back hurt, too, after bending over for so many steps. The tree was always the same, always heavy, always a burden that she had to shift to keep it safe from harm. What would happen if they broke a branch off it? Hermione shuddered to think. The whole of it was covered in so much advanced magical spells, any of those could be catastrophic if something went wrong.

Still, nothing had, so far. Hermione began to feel a need to rest, and contemplated calling out to George to stop. It would be better to get this done quickly. Someone was taking a risk on the other end. Surely, she could carry it just a little further to help them get back inside all the faster.

Her legs and arms were screaming at her and sweat poured down her face despite the cold air in the tunnel when at last George stopped lighting his wand. Hermione dimmed hers as well, barely perceiving a light ahead. A voice in Hermione's head wanted her to spring forward, to throw the tree out the end and sit on the solid earth for a moment. However, George continued at the same pace he had gone the full tunnel. He may not have been much affected, but she was. She wanted to rest for a while before walking back, no matter the risk. Her whole body begged for the rest.

"George, Hermione?" asked a voice ahead. "That you?"

"N-Neville?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," he said, and his voice sounded gladder, less worried. "Glad you both made it. We'll have to be careful. The village is swarming with Aurors."

"I ran into some of them on the way in," George said.

"Oh, are they chasing you?" he asked, concern returning.

"No," Hermione said. "He got them to leave before they saw I was around."

"Thank goodness," Neville said. "The last thing we need is another Auror invasion. Come on, Dumbledore said to get you two to safety."

"We can just go back-" George began.

"They've put up an Anti-Apparition barrier over the village, and the streets are lined with Aurors," Neville said. "We'll hide you in the Room of Requirement with the others."

"Others?" Hermione asked.

"You'll see," he said. "Come on, we just need to get to the castle walls."

"How am I going to slip through the castle?" she asked. "If they're hunting me out in the village… what about Harry?"

"We haven't heard anything," Neville said. "But the Ministry don't have him. Come on, we don't have much time. You have to trust me."

"Oh- okay," Hermione managed.

Neville helped George lift the end of the tree out of the hole, and Neville began to hover it on the grounds, the force taking it out of her hands. Hermione nearly staggered in relief, but the other two began to move forward, and she felt herself following, mechanically. Each step felt on the brink of collapse, but she somehow continued, reaching a blank wall on the side of the castle.

Hermione held onto a brick on the side while Neville tapped his wand on the wall, looking about carefully. No one appeared to have seen them. Hermione saw that it was evening, and no one was on the grounds. How long had they been in that tunnel? Her reverie was disturbed as the brick she held pulled out of her grip, revealing a gap in the castle wall that had never been there before. Inside, however, a gleam of light filled her eyes.

She had no time to wonder as hands took hold of her and pulled her inside. The wall was closed before she could do more than stare in surprised. It had to be the Room, but how had it opened on the outside of the castle? Was that something Neville had come up with? What else had changed in the short time they had been gone?

Then, faces appeared in front of her, a few she recognised and some she didn't. All appeared to be students. It took her a moment to recognise that the Room itself was laid out in a different way than any configuration they had ever used. It was smaller, more intimate than when they had had Quidditch inside, but large enough to have a hundred stand in the centre. The walls were lined with a half dozen or so beds. The beds looked well slept in.

Her view was blocked by students coming up to her for hugs and smiles. Hermione felt completely overwhelmed.

"Neville?" she asked. "What is this?"

"Welcome to the Haven," a girl nearby - a second year Hermione thought - said.

"Haven?" she asked.

"If you are being targeted by the Guard or the Ministry professors," Neville said, shooing the students back from her, "we bring you here for protection. We've fortunately only had a few, so far. The DA watch over them and make sure the house elves come with food."

"Wow," George said, looking dumbstruck for once.

"Well done," Hermione said, watching the few students milling around in front of them. "Harry will be proud."

"We've done it because of Harry, and you, of course," Ginny said, coming through another opening in the wall.

"Ginny," Hermione exclaimed. "Are you alright? You aren't living here, too?"

"I'm alright," Ginny said, smiling as she walked up. "With you two gone who knew where… the rest of us wanted to do something."

"What about the parents and families of these students?" George asked, frowning around. "Won't they be worried?"

Neville's frown deepened. "Their families have had to go into hiding or fled for some reason… that's why they were targeted, for the most part."

"The Guard only really care if they can keep families in line," Ginny said, grimacing. "They've made threats to plenty of people's family, but none they've acted on…"

"At least that we know of," Neville said, taking a seat at the central table and gesturing for Hermione and George to sit, too. "You must be tired. I'm sure the house elves will bring more food if …"

"Need something, Master Longbottom?" asked Vinken, suddenly at his side.

"Always there when we need you, eh, Vinken?" Neville asked.

"For the students of Hogwarts, always," Vinken said, bowing. "It is our honour… Oh!"

He suddenly saw Hermione and George, his eyes widening. Then, he deepened his bow.

"Miss Granger and Mister Weasley, an honour it is!" he rose. "You look exhausted. We will bring food. Master Longbottom will see you to accommodations. They know the Come and Go room better than I."

With another bow, he flew away.

"Th-thanks!" Hermione called after him.

"Now," Neville said, looking at them seriously. "You'll have to tell us what's going on out there. Really going on."

"Yes!" Ginny cried. "Have you heard from Mum and Dad? Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone is fine," George said. "I saw mum and dad yesterday. They're … tired and worried, but alright."

"And your parents, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

Hermione tried not to wince. She had tried hard not to think about them too much. They were safe, that was the key thing. They were safe and she could focus on what she needed to.

"Oh, no no no," Ginny said, her face anguished. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," Hermione said, wiping her eye reflexively. "They're somewhere safe… that's … that's all I know."

"S-sorry," Ginny said, hanging her head. "I f-forgot."

"It's alright," Hermione said, putting on a smile. "We're all safe and that's what matters."

"Harry and Fred are safe, too," Neville said. "Someone sent word that they're being hidden in a cellar in the village, away from the Aurors. When things clear up, they'll get both of them out of there."

Hermione nodded. "He better be," she said, her voice growing stern. "Dumbledore has a lot to answer about today. Who told the Aurors we would be here?"

Neville shook his head. "I don't know, but you can ask him yourself," he said. "Dumbledore said he would come tonight to help return the tree. I don't know if he has a clue how he's going to do that… but none of us has any better ideas."

Hermione agreed. The four of them chatted about what was going on outside, about the end of the barrier, Harry's trip from Gibraltar, the attacks on the Order and London. Hermione barely even noticed when food arrived, but ate quickly as her appetite had ballooned after the day they had had. She just hoped wherever Harry was, he was safe and getting a good meal, too. He had to be safe. He just had to be.


	33. Chapter 33: Trapped

Fred tapped his fingers impatiently on the table, looking around the small cellar as though he might discover a door he had missed on the way down. There were no windows, or Harry expected the young man would have had his eyes glued to it, looking for some sign of his brother, Hermione or the Aurors that were looking for all of them.

"How long do we have to wait down here?" Fred asked. "And who is this guy, really? He's not working for You-Know-Who, right? Maybe he's trying to auction us off for the highest bidder…"

"Calm down," Harry said. "We'll ask him what is going on when he comes back down. There were bar guests, and ignoring those would be more suspicious than anything else. You heard them arrive, just like I did."

"Yeah, suspicious timing is all," Fred replied, scratching his neck.

"It's a bar," Harry stated, staring at Fred. "They have people come to drink."

"Middle of the day?" Fred asked.

"I think it's close to sunset, now," Harry commented. "We have been down here a bit."

"Merlin's beard," Fred said, swivelling towards the stairs. "How long are we going to be down here?"

"As long as we're on our guard," Harry said. "We can just head back when free and regroup. I'm sure George and Hermione are alright. They're very resourceful."

"Maybe I can just Apparate out and check," Fred said, then looked at Harry. "I'll come right back. I just want to make sure it's safe to head back. They might be watching for you to Apparate out, but they wouldn't blink at a proprietor of a joke shop travelling around for bits and bobs."

"I wouldn't try that," Aberforth said, descending into the cellar. He was just a shadowy silhouette at this point. Harry could see a faint light, flickering above, from the candles that littered the tables and shelves of the Hog's Head.

"Why not?" Fred asked, standing. "Are you going to stop us?"

"The Aurors must suspect their targets are still around," Aberforth said, stepping into the table top candlelight. "They've put up an Anti-Apparition barrier on the area. No one can Apparate within the village, at least. I'm sure they'll notice if anyone tries, however."

"Bollocks," Fred exclaimed, frowning. "Then, we'll just have to go outside of the village and Apparate from there. Come on, Harry."

"They're still patrolling the streets, child," Aberforth said, grimacing. "And I thought my brother was impulsive."

"Who's your brother?" Harry asked, cutting off Fred's inevitable response.

"An old fool who should know better," Aberforth said. "Now, sit, both of you."

Harry realised he had risen as Fred had. He wasn't on the way to the cellar stairs like his friend, but he had moved regardless. Feeling the pressure of the man's hard eyes, Harry sat, keeping his wand in hand. Whatever this man wanted, he couldn't be sure. This Aberforth had saved them from the Aurors, but why?

Fred hesitated, but eventually sat, folding his arms and keeping an eye on the stair. The old man stepped forward and took a seat in front of them, clasping his time worn hands on the table between them. He looked between them before speaking.

"Before we were interrupted," Aberforth said, "you would only tell me that you were waiting for someone. I know this must be some fool plan of Albus', and no doubt he swore you to secrecy. Secrets are fine so long as the need is not great. Tell me, what is so urgent he would send wanted people so close to the Ministry owned school? Only a child might be ignorant of your frequent mentions in the Prophet and the Ministry's interest."

Harry looked at Fred, doubtful. He had said he knew who the barman was, but he was staring at Aberforth with a great distrust. The man had saved them and seemed to know Dumbledore in some way, but was that enough to earn their trust? Many could say they knew the old Headmaster.

"Still don't trust me?" Aberforth asked, sighing.

"Why should we?" Fred asked. "You brought us down here for who knows what reason, won't tell us how you know Dumbledore or who you're working for…"

"I work for myself," Aberforth said, blunt. "You might have noticed the bar up the stairs."

"He does make a good point, though," Harry said. "Why should we open up to you? You helped us get away from the Aurors, and we're thankful for that…"

"Funny way of showing it," Aberforth commented. "However, exposure to Albus often leads to a decrease in trust."

"If you had to hide from the Ministry," Harry said, "you might get a little conscious of what you say and to whom…"

Aberforth observed him for a moment. He sniffed and shook his head. "That you might, lad," he said after a moment. "That you might. No doubt from the very safe requests of your dear Headmaster. Easy jobs and duties, no doubt?"

"I had to flee after the Death Eaters attacked the school at the end of the Triwizard Tournament," Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "Dumbledore didn't have anything to do with that."

"Eh, he did, somehow or other," Aberforth said, shrugging. "That man is always embroiled in a dozen or more plots. Has been since he was a child."

"Sounds like you two don't get along," Fred said, eyeing the man.

"You'll see it too, if you are around him long enough," Aberforth said, shaking his head.

"Why do you want to help us?" Harry asked. "You clearly don't want to help Dumbledore, and you believe we're working with him."

"I help those I think may need it," Aberforth said. "You two were toddling around town like a couple of lost ducklings. I brought you in and want to give you a bit of advice."

"What advice?" Fred asked.

"Haven't you been listening?" Aberforth asked. "Put distance between yourself and Albus. If you are looking out for your health and safety, leave a good gap, turn and walk and keep walking."

"What did he ever do to you?" Harry asked, curious. "I've only ever known Dumbledore wanting to help people."

"Through other people's risk," Aberforth stated, scathing. "He uses people, and I guarantee he's used you, too."

"That's not true-" Harry began, but the other man cut in.

"It is a certainty," Aberforth said, briskly. "Ask yourself, has he ever had one of his little chats with you and suddenly you're off to some grand mission you are just certain you have wanted to do? Are you sure you did before the meeting? Eh? Ever suddenly found yourself chasing after something that Albus needs done, even if you are just positive he had wanted you to take things slower, more cautiously?"

"He always urges caution," Fred said. "If people don't always listen, that isn't his fault."

"Right," Aberforth said, chuckling. "Still denying, but you will come to a realisation."

"Whatever you say," Harry said. "But you clearly want to do the right thing. Why not help the cause? There are a lot of people out there who are in danger…"

"Not everyone wants to line up to be martyred, child," Aberforth said. "Be thankful I pulled you off the streets, but that's as far as I go. That and my warning, mind. You don't seem interested in taking any advice, and that is as it is. That old fool always raises them loyal."

"Harry, let's get out of here," Fred said, rising. "I'd rather take my chances with the Aurors than put up with more lectures from a coward."

"Some sense of gratitude you've got there," Aberforth said, grunting. "Even well intentioned fools should learn manners."

"We are grateful," Harry replied quickly, shooting a glare at Fred. "He's just worried about other people. If they're after us, our friends could be in trouble."

Fred looked at Harry as though deciding whether he should be angry. Harry knew he was really upset over George, but he couldn't do anything about it. The worry was the same one he shared, for both George and Hermione. They couldn't go charging off, though, no matter what the situation.

"Go if you want," Aberforth said. "Just so they don't see you leaving my bar, mind. I'm not going to stop you."

"Fred," Harry said, not rising as the young man walked towards the stairs. "We need to be careful."

"You be careful," he said, grimacing back at Harry and the old man. "I need to help George."

"I want to help them, too," Harry said, jumping up to follow as Fred began to climb. "We won't help them if we're captured by the Aurors, though."

"We won't help them in a cellar," Fred muttered.

Harry followed Fred up the stairs to the bar floor, grabbing Fred by the arm.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. "Think about this. They might not think anything of you wandering about, but maybe they're looking to question anyone walking about. Do you want to end up at the Ministry asking questions?"

"I'll be fine," Fred said. "I could have a perfectly legitimate reason for having a drink here."

"And how are you supposed to find and help George?" Harry asked. "If they stop you to question, they'll stay longer. And you won't get far if they're all over the village. We need to be careful. You heard what the man said."

"You believe him, now, do you?" Fred asked.

"About being careful, yes," Harry replied. "I'm as worried about George and Hermione as you are. I'm sure they're worried sick over us, too, but we aren't helping them if we get entangled with the Ministry here."

"What are we supposed to do, then?" Fred asked.

"Wait," Harry answered. "We can sneak out when they've left, regroup with everyone when it's safer. I'm sure they're safe, too. Hermione and George are smart enough to get to safety, probably better at it than we were, to be fair."

"How can you just wait?" Fred asked.

"I don't want to," Harry replied. "But what good can we do out there? They'll find me immediately, and then what have we done?"

"I think-" Fred began.

"Harry Potter," said a voice that boomed through the walls, shaking the timbers, "by decree of the Minister of Magic, the Aurors have surrounded the village. We know you are here, and we will find you if we have to hunt through each house and shop. There is no escape. If you wish to surrender to us, the Minister would will take that into account, with certainty. Any struggle or attempt to escape will be taken into account, as well."

"If you delay, we will find you," the voice went on, booming as before. "Reveal yourself and throw down your wand without delay. Any who shield Harry Potter will be punished as criminals complicit in any crimes committed. No clemency will be considered for those who keep him from us."

The voice went silent and Harry just stared at Fred.

"Did that old codger tell them?" Fred asked, looking angrily towards the cellar stairs.

"They'd have just come in to get us if he did," Harry reasoned. "I don't know if there's a way to get out of here… maybe I should give myself up? You could get away, at least."

"Don't be ridiculous," Fred replied, shaking his head. "There can't be that many of them. Besides, if Kingsley is involved, he may help us slip out."

"Kingsley was asked to step down by the Minister," Aberforth said, stomping up the last few stairs, "pending an investigation, the Prophet said. I wouldn't expect anyone friendly from the Aurors, son. Now, if you two will stop running around with your heads detached, transfigure into something every day and we'll hide you in plain sight."

"I don't actually know how to Transfigure myself into an object," Harry admitted.

"Neither do I," Fred said, shaking his head.

"What do they teach up at that school these days?" Aberforth grunted. "That brother of mine… we'll have words."

"Your brother?" Harry asked.

"Over here," Aberforth said, pointing to a blank spot along the wall and ignoring Harry's question. "Stay a bit apart, that's right. Hold still."

"What are you-" Fred began to ask.

Then, Aberforth's wand sent a jolt of light and where Fred had stood Harry could see a tall coat hanger, dingy and worn with age. Before Harry could so much as move, the wand aimed at him and he felt himself distort to an impossible shape. Somehow he could feel all of it like his own body, but it felt foreign at the same time. His sense of vision was blurred, like he was looking through fabric.

"A better sofa I've never made," the man said, laughing. "Now, hold on, the pair of you. This will hurt, I expect, but you must resist any urge to move or make a sound. If the Aurors are worth their salt, they'll notice magic has been performed here. Few could tell what, but this will make a nice disguise, in any case."

Harry felt something flash across his surface, like a fire, searing his skin. The urge to leap, scream or defend himself arose, but the flash departed as soon as it showed. Everything still burned, but in a dimmer way. He could hear a sizzling from nearby, too, and expected Fred was receiving similar treatment.

"Ho there!" cried a voice from nearby.

"Ho, yourself," Aberforth grumbled. "I heard your decree an' what not. Search away. No one's fool enough to stop Aurors at their work."

"What are you doing with your wand?" the nearby Auror demanded.

"Was just burnishing the base of this coat rack," Aberforth said. "Winter'll be 'round soon enough, won't it? Couldn't hurt custom to have at least a thing or two looking a touch fresh."

"Please cease all magic while we search the premises," the man said, stepping past with an authoritative gait.

Harry still stung all over, but he was beginning to see the plan. The magic used all over them had an explanation, so if the Aurors noticed it - if they did - then there would be an excuse for it. As furniture, cleaning/polishing made sense. He wasn't sure what Aberforth had done to him, but it had to make sense for the purported sofa he had become. The whole of it was brilliant, if odd for a choice. Who was this man, really?

He thought quickly, and Harry couldn't fault him in that. They might have still been arguing about what to do by the time the Auror had entered if he had not intervened. And who was his brother? Was it someone at the Ministry or related to someone at the school? He'd never heard of a tie in between the seedy bar and the school, though he expected some professors may have been there before.

Stomping feet came and went, and Harry wasn't even sure if Aberforth remained near to them. That might have appeared suspicious, too. Harry could only wait. Time seemed to tick on interminably. How long had they been furniture? What if they took Aberforth for questioning and they couldn't turn back? What if he and Fred would be stuck like this for days? Was this sort of magic permanent or would it end when the man was too far away or unconscious? Harry strained his memory. He had focused much more on other types of magic. The gaps really stuck out when it mattered.

After a time, though, a door closed in the distance. Then, silence fell. Harry's concern grew after that. Maybe he had been right? Maybe they were stuck. He could only wait, though, without the human disadvantage of holding his breath. He breathed nothing, and suspected he would not need to eat or sleep in this state, either. Suddenly, he collapsed, feeling his hands and knees hard upon the wooden plank floor. His breath came in deep gasps and his head swam a second.

"That's right lads, breathe deep," Aberforth said from nearby. "Always takes a second to shake that sort of thing off. Hate it, myself. Avoid it and situations where you need to do it at all costs, I do."

"W-who are you?" Harry asked.

"They've gone, by the way," Aberforth said by way of answer, leading them back through the bar to the side entrance. "You should be able to be on your way, though maybe Apparate from some way outside the village, just in case."

"They've gone?" Fred asked. "You fooled them?"

"Surprised, lad?" Aberforth asked, laughing. "Not all the clever waste their talents on tricks and pranks, nor impressive displays. Get that in your head early and save yourself a lot of pain later."

"The more complex magic is often the least visual," Harry said, finding himself agreeing with the old man. "You're sure they've left the village?"

"Seemed so," Aberforth said. "Watched them march to the centre and Disapparate after a heated talk. I do not expect the Minister will be happy with their result, though, so I do suggest you get going."

"Thank you, Aberforth," Harry said. "We really appreciate all you have done."

"Eh, don't worry about it," Aberforth said. "You'll likely waste my effort, anyway."

"You care a lot more than you let on," Fred said, watching the man as though he were some odd puzzle.

"Say whatever slanderous things you like," Aberforth said, "just get."

"One question, if I may?" Harry asked as Fred headed to the door.

"Just one," Aberforth said, frowning. "And quickly."

"Who is your brother?" Harry asked. "You called him many things, but I feel like I know him."

"Who, that old coot?" Aberforth said, laughing. "Though, he may not consider me as such, now. You'll know the old goat as your old Headmaster. And you'd do best to leave him be and take care of yourselves. Now, get, and don't tarry a second more on my doorstep."

With that, Aberforth put them out of the side door, glancing only briefly down each way before pushing them out and shutting the door. Harry stood their gaping for a moment, still trying to understand what he had just learned. He had never heard Dumbledore had a brother, much less one at odds with him. And here Aberforth had been, just outside of the castle Harry's entire life! What else didn't Harry know?

"Come on," Fred said. "We need to get out before the Aurors come back. He might be a grumpy old man, but he might be right there."

"Y-yeah," Harry replied, following. He kept thinking as he walked, wanting to know what other secrets were being kept from them.


	34. Chapter 34: Minor Interruption

The early morning sat like a heavy blanket upon the world, a stillness that pervaded the grounds. The castle was a silhouette which almost completely blended into the dark hills, oddly emanating faint light from various points within. The air was a frigid mist through which nothing stirred, not even the local fauna of the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts slept, and the world about it, too, seemed to follow it in dreaming.

A single flutter cut the air, hardly noticeable in the dim light. To a casual observer, it might have been a bird sweeping from behind the mountainous slopes in the distance and gliding majestically through the grounds. That was, of course, the intention. The figure flew in a gliding path, with no undue speed, no apparent hurry, arcing from high above to land lightly in an empty courtyard.

Neville sighed in relief when he saw the figure land. He had been watching, and felt his nerves rising moment by moment. The Guard often patrolled, even in the courtyards at night. However, fortune had smiled upon them, so far. Not trusting on their luck holding too long, he stepped around a column and beckoned the figure to follow.

The hooded figure came along, swiftly hurrying and walking evenly with Neville. Neither spoke by agreement. Any words could attract the Guard or professors… and with incredibly few exceptions, that would not end well for anyone. He knew it was important, possibly critical to the survival of the school, but the risk was high.

Two corridors passed without running into anyone. Neville looked around as they came to one corner. With relief, he slipped behind a statue, feeling the presence of the new arrival just behind. Neville stepped through the flat wall, an unnerving feeling, but Neville had grown accustomed to it from yearly trips from Platform nine and three quarters. They were suddenly in a darkened room, large and quiet. As the figure stepped through, Neville shut the door behind him, finally breathing in relief.

"Are we there?" Dumbledore whispered.

"Yes," Neville said, nodding. "This is the Room of Requirement, Headmaster."

Dumbledore smiled, removing his hood. "I'm not your Headmaster anymore, Neville," he said. "Please call me Albus."

"Not at the moment," Neville said, looking up at him. "But we'll fix that, H- Albus."

Dumbledore gave him an appreciative nod, then turned to the room. "Is it still wrapped?"

"Yes," Neville said. "We have a few people trying to sleep here, after all."

The old man frowned, but made no comment. He waited a moment before stepping forward towards the centre of the room. No one else had stirred, so far. Though, Neville was aware just how late it was. His head felt heavy in the near-darkness. A part of him just wanted to find a quiet corner to sleep in. But, there were things to do.

"The Aurors have left the village," Dumbledore said. "I understand Harry and Fred made their way out after the withdrawal. A contact of mine kept them out of view during the searches."

"That's good to hear," Neville said. "Hermione and George have been asking after them constantly. I think if they hadn't fallen asleep they'd have been waiting at the entry to the room."

"I'm not surprised," Dumbledore replied. "They spent all morning Apparating around Britain, trading the tree off with others. Even levitating it, they would be feeling the strain of transport."

"George said they carried the tree through the tunnel, too," Neville said. "It was too tight to carry it safely otherwise."

The elder nodded his head, asking, "Has Professor Flitwick been in contact?"

"He told us you were coming," Neville said. "But I do not think he could pass too many messages today. The Guard seemed to be following him around. It's almost as though they knew what we were trying to do."

A silence fell as they walked to the far end of the room, Dumbledore as silent as Neville, both deep in their thoughts. Neville had a question he wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if he should. What would it mean?

"I do not suspect anyone in the Order," Dumbledore said, preempting him.

Neville looked up at his old Headmaster in shock. How had he-?

"I could see the question lingering in your eyes," Dumbledore said. "It is, sadly, too familiar a question in times like these. Be wary, but we must trust our comrades. If we cannot do that, Voldemort and his ilk will have won already."

"Yes, sir," Neville said, frowning. "What if someone did betray us, though?"

"We will deal with that if it happens," Dumbledore said. "Worrying now will not help. Now, show me the tree."

"It's here," Neville said, lighting his wand to illuminate the dark object, saying, "Lumos."

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Thank you. I will unwrap it. Please, shield your eyes."

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore sent the fine wrappings falling off of the tree. The glow emerged immediately, rolling in a descending spiral from top to bottom. Neville began holding his hand over his face as it went, but could still see a pattern of light emblazoned upon his eyes, nevertheless. When it was done, Neville could barely see, at all, and the sounds of groans floated over to him from the sleepy denizens of the room. A glance away from the tree revealed that the room was lit up as though the day sun had broken through a wall.

"So, it must need a little help to reintegrate," Dumbledore said, sounding neither disappointed no frustrated.

Neville had hoped it would just work itself out when the tree was brought back into the room and unfolded, but Dumbledore had insisted on being here for it. That the Headmaster suspected it would not be so easy must be the reason.

"What should we do?" Neville asked.

"Harry spoke of a room full of them," Dumbledore said, absently.

"Not the Room of Requirement?" Neville asked, confused.

"No," Dumbledore corrected, "very much here… but one of its other spaces, I suppose you might say. It is a… complicated place."

"You don't have to tell me," Neville said, laughing. "Every day someone stumbles upon something different here. Just yesterday, I-"

"It appears to take a strength of will to activate changes, yes?" Dumbledore asked. "I have only had limited exposure to this room, to my regret. I may need to lean upon your greater expertise."

"Whatever you need, Hea- er Albus," Neville said, biting his tongue. Habits died hard. "Sort of," he said after a moment. "Will may be a way to put it… but I think of it more as… imploring, asking. The Room responds best to your needs than you wants or orders."

"I see," Dumbledore said, frowning. "Could you ask the room to let us bring its tree branch back to its place?"

"I will… try," Neville said, uncertain. The request sounded a bit different from the ones they usually used. Would this even work?

He closed his eyes, thinking as he did when he needed something. 'Room, we want… need to return one of the light trees to you. I know that you need it to maintain the school. Someone took it from you and we want to give it back. I hope to help you become whole again. Please let us into the place where we can return the tree to you. We will not touch the others, and will only return the one that was taken. You must sense it beside me. I want very much to return it to you.'

Neville opened his eyes. Nothing had happened. Frowning, he thought about it. What had he done wrong. Harry had certainly seen the place. It must exist. Voldemort or his followers had found it somehow or other, too. So, it had to be accessible. What was holding him back?

"I don't know why it didn't work," Neville said.

"Hmm," Dumbledore said, muttering to himself. "It is distrustful. I suspected something like this might occur."

"You mean, it doesn't believe my need?" Neville asked. "We have asked for many things and it always gives them to us."

"It is scared," Dumbledore said, frowning at the tree. "Someone convinced it to open up its room, someone very convincing. The room is re-evaluating its trust and has decided not to let anyone in, for now. Fear does terrible things to even the kindest of souls, and I can think of none kinder."

"Souls?" Neville asked. "This is a magical room, Albus. What does that have to do with souls?"

"It is only a theory," Dumbledore said, "but I think a bit of one of the Founders' souls was used to bond this room, to make it kind."

"But who could do that? Who would willingly do that?" Neville asked. "It sounds like it would be terrible."

"Someone who wanted to make sure people would always feel welcome and safe in Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "Again… it is only a theory, but I suspect it may have been Helga Hufflepuff. She, it is said, would welcome all to her House, no matter the proclivities and aptitudes. As for who could, the Founders possessed no small modicum of magic between them to rival any four in any age since. Much has been lost in magic since those days, some regreted, some not. We can only guess at some of the greater powers lost in time and war."

"But to break your own soul?" Neville asked, feeling revulsion.

Dumbledore smiled. "Not like that," he said. "There are dark powers to split a living soul, used selfishly, for power and protection. This, I think, is not like that. How could it be so light and strong as this tree, if so? No. I think in their lifetimes, the Founders used their living magic to maintain the structure, but when old age took them, Helga gave up, voluntarily, some portion of herself to protect their legacy, all of their legacies, and the students she loved so dearly. She gained no more life by it, no more power or influence, and only left an imprint upon the place she loved."

"Y-you think so?" Neville asked.

"It is a theory," Dumbledore said, looking over at him. "One I have derived over the years. The castle's mysteries are difficult to comprehend otherwise. No spells could persist on their own so long. However, that is what it is. The room does not trust us. Perhaps we still need to show it something to gain that trust. I do not know. It will need to remain here, though, for the moment. From what you say, we cannot force our way with the room. It will do as it wishes and obey none other. You can try asking again, or have others do so, but I do not anticipate success as it is."

"What will change its mind?" Neville asked.

"I do not know," Dumbledore said. "I only hope we can, in time."

He waved his wand at the light, again, and the wrapping rose to cover it, again. Sighing, he turned from it when he had finished.

"I'm afraid I will leave you with a burden that should never have been yours to bear," he said. "Perhaps when this war has ended, the room will listen."

"I will guard it, Albus," Neville said. "We all will."

"Thank you, Neville," Albus said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I knew your parents as Aurors. They were brave, always at the forefront and willing to risk everything for the good. They would be proud of the young man you have become."

"Th-thank you," he managed, fighting down a lump in his throat.

Dumbledore squeezed the shoulder he held, and let go. "I must confer with the others," he said. "If anyone thinks of any solution, we will send word. Otherwise-"

"Albus!" cried a short man, running across the room.

Neville started, seeing Flitwick coming through the Room of Requirement, looking more frazzled than he had ever seen the professor. Ignoring his student, the short, white-haired professor hurried to face Dumbledore.

"What is it, Filius?" Albus asked, brow furrowing in concern. "Have they discovered my coming?"

"Worse, Headmaster!" Flitwick replied. "The Ministry is reporting they have captured Harry! The Guard are reducing their numbers at the school and the Minister is going to make an announcement to the public in the morning."

"Are you certain it was Harry, Filius?" Dumbledore replied, his eyes seizing the other man's in an intense fury.

"I confirmed it with two Guard and Rufus, head of the Aurors, himself," Filius said.

"Scrimgeour was here?" Dumbledore asked.

"He was overseeing the mission," Filius said. "Says the Minister was very keen to wrap up this Potter matter and they had some intelligence he would be around. They kept a few Aurors to watch outside the village for any late Apparators after the majority withdrew."

"We have to go help him," Neville said, breaking in. "Harry'd do the same for us."

"While I agree with your sentiment and spirit, Mr. Longbottom," Flitwick said, "we must not be hasty."

"But, Head- Albus!" Neville cried. "We don't know what they'll do to him! I could hide him here…"

"I regret that I must agree with Filius," Albus said, lowering his head. "I will see if I can get some intercession on his behalf with the Ministry, but we cannot openly attack the Ministry."

"We can't face up to Voldemort, you mean?" Neville asked. "Or you won't?"

"It is not so simple," Dumbledore stated. "He may not even be at the Ministry. It is likely they will have taken him to…"

The old man cut off, looking away, not seeming to want to finish the sentence.

"Where will they have taken him?" Neville asked. "Albus?"

Flitwick reached up, putting a hand on Neville's shoulder in sympathy.

"We'll get him back," Flitwick said. "None of us will rest until we do. You can count on that, lad."

"Where did they take him?" Neville asked, looking between the pair. "Where is Harry?"

"Someone took Harry?" asked a voice, making all of them turn.

Hermione was walking towards them quickly. Her eyes looked exhausted and half-asleep, but something was sharpening in them. She was trailed by George, looking equally tired. He was yawning as he came, squinting at the lot of them. Neville's eyes were drawn to his old classmate. She was looking between the three of them with daggers in her eyes, now.

"The Ministry, Miss Granger," Flitwick said, "is announcing they have captured him. We don't have confirmation for sure, but…"

George jolted at the sound, but Hermione's face just grew harder.

"Where?" she asked. "I'll get him out myself if I have to."

"Hermione," Neville said, putting out a calming hand.

She ignored it, looking solely at Dumbledore. "Well?" she asked. "Where did they take him?"

"It is likely," the old man said, sounding morose, "that they took him directly to Azkaban. That is the procedure they adopted in the summer for any… outstanding fugitives."

Neville gasped. He knew they had wanted to get Harry, but to put him directly in the wizarding prison with…. dementors? It was unheard of. Harry was still a child!

"They can't have!" Neville found himself shouting. "He's not of age."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"Do you really think that is going to stop the Ministry?" Flitwick said, calmly. "But we will get him back, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom."

"What about Fred?" George asked.

"I haven't heard," Flitwick said.

"I shouldn't have let them go without us," George said, clenching a fist, his voice growing harsh.

"Azkaban or no Azkaban," Hermione said, "we'll get them out of there. You with me, George?"

"I'm with you," the young man said, looking around.

"Hermione," Dumbledore said, "please wait. We can do much more with the force of the Order behind it. If you go now, you're more likely to be captured than even find where Azkaban is. Few know its actual whereabouts, for good reason."

"Then, tell us," Hermione demanded, clearly angry. "Tell us so we don't waste time."

"Surely you know," George said, nodding in agreement.

"Calm down, everyone," Flitwick said. "We should put our heads together and figure out how to get him released. The Ministry has no real reason to hold them. If the public understands this, they'll have to let them go."

"How long would that take?" George asked. "Weeks?"

"It will be longer if we are hasty," Flitwick said. "And we don't know for sure that Fred is in their hands. Don't make any rash decisions. They could very well be at the Ministry for questioning."

"What about you, Neville?" Hermione asked. "Do you think we should wait?"

"I'd love to help Harry, now," he replied, feeling a tug within that wanted to race out to help. "I reckon a lot of us would. Harry has done so much for us. But I think Professor Flitwick is right. How can you save him if you don't know where they put him? If he's still in Hogsmeade while you break into the Ministry… you're risking your safety for nothing. He could be in many places, and all we have to go on is on their word that they have him in the first place."

"Hermione," Dumbledore said, looking at her with the saddest eyes Neville had ever seen in him, "and George. Might I beg you one night? Give me tonight to find out more. Rest here, safe, in the school, and I will send word through Flitwick with everything we know. I promised before that you and Harry will have autonomy, and I hold to that. And George, you as well, in the circumstance. I will not stop you, merely hope to give you guidance, such as I can. But, please, allow me this one night to find out what I can. Will you give me that?"

Hermione stood, eyes hard and digging into the older man. His were somber, sad and drained. Hers were fire and exhaustion. Neville felt a heat in the air between them, all from her end he was sure, and then it ended. Hermione nodded, faintly. Turning around and stumbling away, hardly looking where she was going.

George gave a jerky nod to Dumbledore before chasing after her, helping her to the cot Neville had procured for her from the room. Neville felt all the energy that had built up inside him drain out, leaving him hollow in the middle. He could tell the others were speaking around him, but none of it registered for a moment. When it did, he realised he had missed a question for him.

"Neville?" Flitwick asked.

"So-sorry, professor," Neville said. "I must have drifted off a moment."

"You should get to your dorm room," the professor said. "I'll check in on these in the night. You need your rest. Albus will bring word in the morning, and your friends will need you at your best to help advise them."

"What are you going to do?" Neville asked.

"What I can," Flitwick said, following the departing ex-Headmaster towards the exit.

Neville watched them go, standing in the dark near the covered tree for a time. Exhaustion ran over him in waves. Eventually, he crossed over to the wall, asking for an exit to his dorm room. A faint murmur flowed back from the cots they had set up. No matter how tired they were, Neville expected George and Hermione would not sleep well this night. Would any of them?


	35. Chapter 35: Prison

Harry shivered, rubbing his arms with his hands as he was pushed forward by a large man in black robes. He hadn't gathered anything about them, his captors, as their hoods covered their heads entirely. Each held a wand pointed at him as they walked up the long, stone path. He had tried speaking with them as they left the Ministry, but they ignored him. No one had said a word to him, in fact.

However, Harry had given up communicating with the men, he had not given up entirely. His eyes drank in everything they could see, trying to find a weakness, a way out. Despair set in as their steps continued, unabated, and he had found nothing. The walk itself was steep, nearly difficult to continue without reaching out a hand to steady himself on one of the guards. On either side, less than a metre either direction, he could see a sheer drop off. There was nowhere to go except forward and back. Only, the guards would not let him go back. Forward was it.

If he had had a wand, he might have been able to do something more interesting, but Harry did not. That, of course, had been confiscated. He might be able to get one of the men's wands before he found himself bound, falling hard onto the paving stones. One of them might be lax, but three? Not to mention the dozen or so guards they had had back at the dock. And then… well, they were there, too. Summoning enough cheer in this dreary place to hold the eight dementors that had accompanied them on the journey would tax even the most joyful of persons.

The fear Harry felt grew, despite the distance from the dementors behind and from the dementors ahead. The lack of any solution was scary. Whatever the situation he had faced, no matter how dangerous, there had been something he could do. When the Aurors had ambushed Fred and him outside of Hosgmeade, there had been to warning, and they were disarmed before Harry knew anyone was there. The law enforcement group trained in concealment and were excellent at using spells. On an even duel, Harry might have had a chance, but with his wand held loosely and his attention elsewhere…

"It's time," one of the Aurors said. "Will, you won the toss."

"Count on me," the Auror named Will said, a chuckle in his voice.

Harry turned his head to see the other two walking back towards the dock. The third was facing him, wand pointed at Harry's back, steady, unmoving. The man had a pleased grin on his face, but his eyes were daggers on Harry.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"Keep moving, scum," Will said, his voice hard.

They walked further, Harry glancing back at the man, periodically. He couldn't understand why the other two had gone. They were stronger together. Was this a traditional thing? Did everyone have a single guard up to the entrance of the prison? Did he get special treatment for some reason?

"You cause a lot of trouble, you know that?" Will said.

Harry didn't reply. What was there to say to a statement like that?

"Speechless?" the man asked. "Fine. I can deal with that. Listen. This is the part of the plan where I'm meant to kill you. Don't take it personally. The Dark Lord wants what he wants. As long as it looks enough like that, I'm good. I had to rig a coin toss to get the opportunity, and trust me, if either of the other two had had the chance, you would find a watery grave, at best."

"What are you-?" Harry began.

"Silence," Will snapped. "There's little time. Some would rather you survived, and I will see that happens, even at my own risk. In a moment, I'm going to need you to react in anger, charging at me as if to take my wand. Or try to take it, if you can. Whatever motivates you to come at me. You're going into the water on the lefthand side. I scouted it beforehand and there are no rocks. I slipped some gillyweed in your pocket, so you should be able to swim deep beneath the water for a half hour or more."

"But, where could I swim to in half an hour?" Harry asked. "The North Sea is huge."

"You'll have to sort that out," Will said. "I can only help you so far. Just stay deep and out of view. Now, attack me!"

Harry wished he had an alternative. If the man was chosen to kill him, he couldn't fake it better than he was. Harry's hand felt on his left pocket, and there was a bulge. Should he trust it was Gillyweed? Would it actually work? He'd read about the stuff in a book, but he'd never seen it used. He had no choice, however.

He charged at the man, roaring in anger - legitimately. The next thing he knew, Harry was flying through the air and smashing hard into the icy waters. He was well submerged by the time he thought to grab the gillyweed. Fingers tangled in his robe as he dug for it, finally grabbing the squishy substance. Without hesitation, he put it in his mouth and did his best to hold his waning breath. Time ticked painfully past. Would it work?

Then, just as Harry's head started to feel heavy, he felt his body change. He was breathing without thinking and his fingers and toes - in his shoes - had grown webbed. Harry reached down and removed his shoes and socks, and began swimming outward, away from where he had fallen. His webbed hands and feet pushed the water much faster than he ever could have alone. The water was cold, though, freezing. His limbs moved, despite the cold, but he wasn't sure how long that might last.

Harry knew little about Azkaban, but what he did know was that the Ministry had chosen it for its location. It lay somewhere in the middle of the North Sea and was nowhere near any major landmass. The books at the school wouldn't give him more than that, and his professors had never wanted to discuss it. The key, though, was that there was literally nowhere he could get to in the time given. If he was lucky, there would be a smaller island near the large one, but then what? With no food, how long could he survive? Had Will just bought him a little time before he starved?

Again, if there was no other island, that left only one place to go. He didn't need the freezing water to shudder at that thought. Just the thought of the dementors made his blood run cold. He kept swimming, though, pushing forward through the inky blackness beneath the waves. Every part of him hurt, feeling the pangs of muscles that never worked this hard.

When he could not stand it any longer, Harry rose, reaching the surface and blinking into the dim light beneath the clouded skies. Waves obscured his immediate view, but turning he could see the tall peak of the prison, Azkaban. It was not too far away. Squinting back he tried to make out the path he had fallen from, but it was too distant. The pier he had left, too, was out of sight. Scanning the coast ahead, Harry looked for anything that might help him. The prison itself was dark, unfriendly. Harry knew that was his last destination. Going there was as good as ceasing to swim.

So, he began swimming back towards where he knew the pier would be. Maybe there had been a ferry or a boat of some kind there. A prison it might be, but there must be a method to arrive that was available for people who did not like to Apparate. Ministers and other important wizards visited here from time to time. With that heartening hope, he swam, trying to keep low in the water, dipping and swimming through the blackness for dozens of strokes at a time only to peek above the waves on occasion. His arms hurt, still, and his legs, but the gillyweed was still working. He could breathe naturally and maintained his speed through the water.

On one stroke, he came above the water and could finally see his goal, a flat and raised space at the end of the long downhill path to the prison. Harry could almost mark the spot he had fallen from on that path, but his eyes swept over the pier. Something did sit on the other side of it, in the water. And he could see no one on the pier, not from this distance, anyway. Then, a wave rolled in front of him and Harry's gaze focused on something closer.

It was… weird. He couldn't quite understand what he was looking at. The thing - whatever it was - looked like a bag or sack, but an odd green that did not quite fit in with the water. Then, he was sure he saw the thing move. It was alive! Harry frowned, and began to swim around it. That was when the thing noticed him. It jerked violently, spinning around and one end pointed at him. A blast of green liquid flew through the intervening space.

Harry dove beneath the waves, swimming fast and hard. He swam out, under the creature, he hoped and onwards. He had gone a dozen strokes before he felt a burning on his left shoulder. He swam on, trying to push himself to his utmost. When he thought it was safe, he rose to the surface again. Harry looked around, but could see no sign of the creature. A glance at his shoulder, though, showed that a tiny dribble of whatever the creature had spat at him had struck his shoulder. Where it had struck, though, the skin burned. He needed someone to look at it. It was certainly some kind of poison. But first, he needed to get away from here.

He turned back to the pier and saw it was not far. Harry swam up and reached the base of the pier, swimming around until he found a ladder. The wood was ancient and in poor shape. The first rung he reached for collapsed under his grip and the second barely held. He struggled, pulling himself upwards and fighting to keep a steady hand and foothold. His breath became ragged as he was in the middle and Harry realised he still had the gillyweed transformation. How long had it been? He couldn't breathe properly, but he didn't want to wait in the water. More of those things could be down there, and his shoulder's burn was growing worse.

Harry tried to steady his breath, staring hard at his fingers on the rung in front of him. Then, in amazement, he took a deep breath. His fingers had reverted to normal, and he could breathe again! Gasping in relief, Harry steadied himself and looked up. The sky was open above up to the grey clouds. He worked his way up the last couple rungs and peeked over the edge of the pier. Empty. Even the dementors that had met them had gone. Easing up a bit more, he took a second look. His luck had held, so far, but he had to be fast.

A boat was connected on the right side of the pier, tied twice, close to Harry and further down. He could see no oars and no sails, so he hoped that it was magically moved in some easy manner. Crouching, he slipped across the wooden planks, coming to the first cleat. The rope was old and looked almost congealed as one mass in its knot. Harry dug at the strands with his fingers, slowly loosening. It was a torturous slowness, and Harry continuously looked around. He was very exposed where he was, but there was nothing he could do about it.

At last, after painful digging, he released the first rope from the cleat, and looked around. To his horror, a line of dementors was flowing down the path towards him. It wasn't one or two, either, there were at least a dozen. He couldn't feel them at this distance, but fear still seized his heart. He fought it off, though, leaping at the other cleat with abandon. He didn't bother crouching now. He stood and tore at the ropes as hard as he could. They quickly began to grow red from the cuts he was creating on his fingers, but Harry could not stop. He dug and twisted the rope, pulling loose pieces out as fast as he could.

When he had tossed the rope into the boat, the dementors were mere metres away, nearly to the end of the path. Harry ran, jumping into the boat and yelling, "Go! Go already. I'm ready to go."

The boat did nothing. Harry ran to the back, looking at the wheel. It was free, but he could see that there was a series of dials and knobs in front of it. It was a Muggle boat? Harry was startled, but relieved. Flitwick had taken Harry out on one while they visited a Muggle friend who lived on a lake years ago. Harry had been very interested in how it worked…

Harry twisted the key - fortunately in place - and pulled back on the throttle when the engine turned over. The boat lurched out into the water, slowly. Harry watched the dementors filling the pier, slowly moving toward him. From this close, he could feel them again, hear horrifying sounds.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please-" That was his mother, Harry had assumed.

"No!" Umbridge, of all people, haunting with her last cry.

"… Protect… keep him… protect… keep him…save…" Hermione, most painful of all.

His thoughts grew heavy and dark, weighing down on him as though all the light in the world had been sucked out of it. He could feel cold, worse than that he had felt in the water. He shivered from head to feet, and nearly fell out of his chair.

Then, the boat was out of their reach, shooting across the water at a faster pace. Harry did not look back. He couldn't. He just couldn't bear it. Even never having entered the blasted place, it had brought such horror.

He held onto the wheel, turning west towards the UK, and then felt his left shoulder. The burning continued, but it was less than before. He couldn't tell if that was better or worse. He needed help for it, but first, he needed to get back home. Maybe he could find that spot on the coast where he had left his old wand.

As the boat cruised, he looked through the supplies. There was no edible food, but he did find some blankets that had been packed away neatly. They were dry and warm in the frigid air. Harry blanketed himself in the captain's chair, and kept the boat westward. It took all his concentration to keep an eye on the compass and the horizon. His mind wanted to drift back, process what had happened, but he couldn't, not yet. There would be time for all of that… later.


	36. Chapter 36: Seaside Excursion

Harry turned off the engine, standing and stretching. He looked around at the setting. It looked right, and he had been fairly certain of it from a long way off. The island to one side had that flat top covered in trees. The cliff to the other side was not overly tall, but still daunting from his height.

Harry hadn't been sure how close he could take the boat without crashing it, so he was still some distance to the land. It didn't look too deep, however, and he could swim that distance, at least, without magical aid. Having nothing left on the boat he needed, Harry leapt into the water and swam hard.

Swimming in clothes was much more difficult without gillyweed. What had been a smooth, effortless flow, became a constrained and jumbled mess of sleeves clinging to other bits of fabric or floating into his line of sight. The water was clear here, but his vision was worse, somehow. He could barely make out he shore half the time.

Regardless, Harry found land more or less intact, if quite sodden. Dripping and taking large gulps of air, he staggered forward across the stone covered beach, the sharper ones creating painful tiny gashes on his bare feet. His hurry and fear long behind him, Harry now deeply regretted losing his shoes.

After some steps, Harry was out of the short tide and observed the geography ahead of him. The towering height of the cliffs seemed more mountainous from here, but he could see natural paths snaking their way upwards. He took a second to breathe and then pushed forward towards the nearest one.

The path up was steep and slippery at times. Harry's toes struck countless roots, but far fewer sharp objects. Thinking only of the goal ahead, Harry pushed himself upward, hoping everything was as he left it. He didn't want to think of crossing the country again so defenceless. His footsteps grew uneven, and his legs tired from the effort. Harry was aware it had been ages since he had had proper sleep. On the boat he had dozed some, but shook himself awake frequently. In any case, he couldn't stop, not this close.

With a heavy finality, Harry reached a short wall of stone. He took a deep breath and boosted himself up, finding - at last - a space of green grass. He fell onto his knees for a moment, but shook his head and rose. So close. Looking around, he saw the familiar ridge line and a smile came across his face. He _had_ been correct.

Walking down to a singular tree that stuck out of the edge of the cliff, Harry knelt down at its base and dug in the earth with his hands. He cast left and right, trying to find the exact spot. His fingers struck something hard, and he pushed, wrapping his hands around the thin band. With a tug, the wand and his hand were out of the dirt and in the air. A fine mist of dirt clung to the ridges. Harry shook it, sending a rain of dust falling. Standing, Harry's smile widened.

Then, his eyes left the wand as he saw something distant, small, but moving, across the water. On the island, a figure was walking, looking back and forth on the coast beneath Harry. Whomever it was, he did not seem to have noticed that he had an observer. Harry crouched slowly by the tree, looking out and watching carefully.

The figure was too far away to make out clearly, but Harry could see he wore something loose. Maybe it was a wizard. He watched him walk up to the edge of the island's peak, a hand over his eyes. Then, he pointed to Harry's left, what Harry thought must be at the base of the cliffs. Following the finger, Harry thought he saw a deep recess, perhaps a cave, some ways down the coast. He looked back at the figure just in time to see the man disappear. It _was_ a wizard! On instinct, Harry looked back where the man had pointed and saw the man standing on a rock just in front of the recess before diving into the watery inlet. Then, he was gone.

Why was a wizard exploring this place, and who was it? Harry had had a poor vision of the man. A part of him said Harry should just leave. He had gotten what he came for, after all, and was undetected, to boot. However, if that was one of Voldemort's followers, perhaps this would reveal their hiding place or something else they wanted to keep secret. It could, also, belong to the Scions. No established Wizarding town existed in a cave, at least none Harry had heard of. If he kept his distance, maybe he could find out more…

Decided, Harry arose, holding his wand firmly. Without an extra thought, he turned, focusing on the place he wanted to be, and for a split second, he felt that crunching sensation before his feet struck a hard, wet stone. He nearly slipped, but just managed to catch himself with his hand on the edge of it. With a sigh, he looked the direction the man had gone. How many times did he have to go into the water? Shaking his head, Harry dove in, swimming forward and finding himself thankful that the sun had lit the space well enough for him to proceed without lighting his wand. There was no point in giving himself away, needlessly.

Compared to his earlier swims, this one was short, but no less cold. His limbs still felt that weight from tiredness and the recent climb, but he moved faster for it, hoping to observe and return without being noticed. Harry emerged from the water inside a cave that was lit only by the light of a single wand. The man he had seen was walking along the cave wall, stopping periodically and leaning in towards the stone. On one of these particular movements, the light rebounding off the side of the cave wall illuminated his face in profile.

Harry rushed out of the water, ignoring the cold and dripping as he cried, "Sirius!"

The older man spun, his wand coming around to illuminate Harry, filling his eyes with too much direct light. Harry put up his hand in his face and only dropped it when the light lessened. As his eyes recovered with purple spots, he saw the silhouette of Sirius approach.

"Harry?" Sirius asked. "How did…? Wait, how do I know you're not a spy? Tell me something only Harry would know."

"You helped me leave Paris and reach the barrier on England," Harry said. "Your… friend? Garland was supposed to help us get through it, but he attempted to hand me over to V- You-Know-Who, but I escaped."

"The enemy knows as much," Sirius said, frowning and keeping his wand trained on Harry.

"I know you're looking for something for Dumbledore," Harry said. "A number of somethings that You-Know-Who wants kept hidden. Is that why you're here?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, seeming to weigh the answer.

"I saw you getting attacked in a dream, warned the professors who had the Minister, Fudge at the time, check on you," Harry added. "I thought you were dying, and you later told me it was … a near thing, I think."

Sirius nodded. "Alright," he said, deciding. "Even the Ministry hushed up that one. They wanted people to know they captured me, but did not want anyone to know I had been hurt at the Ministry. Makes people nervous and think the Ministry is not secure. Wait… why aren't you suspicious of me?"

"If anyone was coming after me," Harry said, "they would have come at me while I was collecting my wand, not draw me into a cave only to turn their back on me while I entered."

"Collecting your wand?" Sirius asked.

"I left it on the cliff near here when I passed through the barrier," Harry said. "I came back for it now as my new one was taken."

"Someone took your wand?" Sirius asked, looking around as though someone would pop up wielding the stolen wand.

"We can.. talk about that later," Harry said. "Are you looking for a horcrux here?"

"Yes," Sirius said, his face grave. "Dumbledore showed me some memories he had related to You-Know-Who. This cave appears to be where he went on holidays and tormented his fellow orphans. It took some time to track it down… but I can't seem to find where it might be."

"Why would he put one here?" Harry asked, looking around at the dark walls. "I mean, other than remoteness. It seems so…"

"Arbitrary?" Sirius asked, laughing and walking back up to the wall to find a gap. "I asked him the same thing, Dumbledore, that is. He thinks it was one of Riddle's better memories."

Sirius shuddered when he said this, and Harry could not blame him. The thought of tormenting children being pleasant was disturbing.

"So, this place would be like a … a trophy, to him," Sirius said.

Harry pulled out his wand. " _Lumos,"_ he said, lighting up a wall across from him. "What have you checked for?"

"Anything visual," Sirius replied, his voice echoing from further down the way. "I don't really see any natural crevices he might have used magic to widen."

" _Aparecium_!" Harry cried, running his wand across a stretch of the wall. " _Revelio!_ "

He repeated these as he moved along the wall, pointing to each stretch with his wand. He could hear Sirius muttering spells from the other side of the cave, but could not make out what the man was trying. For a time, they went on in this near silence, with only whispers and the brushing of feet to mark the passage of time. Harry felt like a blind man feeling about in the dark. What would the entrance even look like? Were they sure it was here?

He had begun to think perhaps they should retreat and find someone else to help with the discovery when Sirius called out. His shout was accompanied by a flash of light.

"I've found something!" the man said. "It won't… open, though."

Harry came over, immediately. Leaving his current patch of wall behind. "What did you find?" he asked.

"This," Sirius said. He muttered a spell and pointed his wand.

The outline of a door appeared, glowing brilliantly in silver for a split second, then faded. Sirius pushed his shoulder against the door, but nothing happened. Harry followed suit, immediately regretting it as the pain from the bite burned like fire.

"Ow!" he cried, pulling back.

Where he had struck the wall, a faint red patch had appeared. He must have bled more than he thought.

"Harry, are you hurt?" Sirius asked, reaching for Harry's shoulder.

His movement was interrupted by the silver outline returning. They both gaped as the wall that held the light splattering of blood simply vanished, leaving an opening. Harry looked at Sirius and the man looked back at him. The dark opening felt ominous, but they both moved toward it, as though summoned.

"What happened to your arm, Harry?" Sirius said, running his wand over Harry's shoulder. "It isn't a big cut…"

"Something hit me, well, I mean, it sprayed something at me and I guess it nicked my shoulder," Harry said. "I was going to find someone to look at it, but… well, I ran into you. It only hurts a little."

"Something sprayed something at you and it drew blood?" Sirius asked, stopping Harry by pulling him around with a hand on his other shoulder. His eyes were hard and full of concern. "What was it?"

"It was a little, green thing in the sea," Harry said, holding his arms out. "About this big, I think."

"In this sea?" Sirius asked, eyes narrowing. "Lolabugs, if I remember, are found deep down, but why would they be near enough the surface to run into them? Where was this?"

"Out a ways," Harry said, gesturing vaguely. "We should get the horcrux, and then you can take me to see someone about this. Lolabugs are only somewhat venomous, and it barely hit me."

"I- fine," Sirius said, frowning. "If we're quick. Only because I don't want to leave this place open and I don't know how to close the entrance again."

"Let's go," Harry said, shrugging off the man's hand. "Maybe the worst is behind us."

"What, giving up your blood to open the door?" Sirius asked, scoffing. "That is no little thing. It takes a dark individual to think of something like that as a key. _I_ should have been the one to give up blood for it. Who knows what this place might do with that?"

"We'll be careful," Harry said, keeping his wand in front of him.

They walked out into an open space, and Harry could see in front of them a very large, black lake. It was so large, he could not see the other side of it. Near what he guessed was the centre, a faint green light emanated from above the water, reflecting neatly off the perfectly still surface.

Running his wand light over the water nearest them, Harry found it unnaturally still. No cave animals or fish made it shudder or ripple. It might have been made of dark, reflective glass, but Harry felt a most powerful aversion to touching the water.

"Well, that's interesting," Sirius said, breaking the stillness. "You think the horcrux is at that green light?"

"Above the water?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't it be safer to hide it in the lake?"

"Not if he thinks crossing the lake a big enough deterrence," Sirius said. "And without a way across, we cannot find out."

"But … he must have had a way to do it," Harry said, casting around for something. "A boat or a bridge or something…"

"Maybe he could conjure one," Sirius said. "I don't think I have ever Vanished anything like a boat."

"Nor I," Harry said. "I have a boat out near the shore, however. If you think that would help."

"A part of me is screaming not to disturb the water," Sirius said. "I feel an unnatural dread of it."

"Maybe there is another place for payment?" Harry suggested. "Like a rock that turns into a bridge if you brush it with blood?"

"That seems unlikely," Sirius said, scrunching up his nose. "If I were hiding something that valuable, I wouldn't want people to use the same technique for everything protecting it. No, I expect we need something else."

"Maybe we can just summon the horcrux from here," Harry said, pointing his wand, " _Accio Horcrux!_ "

Something flung itself up out of the water with tremendous speed and landed with hardly a ripple. Harry felt his heart racing just watching from afar.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Part of the protection," Sirius said, squinting. "I expect any other attempts to magically extract the horcrux will be met with similar."

"Maybe we can Apparate?" Harry asked.

"To the island?" Sirius asked. "I highly doubt it. Anti-Apparition spells would be the first thing he would have put on this place."

"I might as well try," Harry said. "If it's blocked, I won't be able to move."

Sirius nodded. Harry concentrated on a spot just beside the light, and he turned, nearly falling as a force struck him. With a stagger he kept himself up.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, catching Harry's outstretched arm.

"Alright," Harry said. "You were right, but at least we know…"

"If only we had a spell You-Know-Who wouldn't have thought of," Sirius muttered. "Maybe Dumbledore would know…"

"That's it!" Harry cried. "You're brilliant, Sirius."

"What?" Sirius asked. "Bring Dumbledore here? He did want me to try before drawing him into it, and we can't give up just yet…"

"No, no," Harry said. "Magic he wouldn't have thought of. _We_ cannot Apparate here, but maybe a house elf could?"

Sirius' eyes widened. "You think he wouldn't have considered a house elf's magic because.."

"Because no one does," Harry said. "They can go basically anywhere they want. No one thinks about that weakness."

"Well, I'll give it a try," Sirius said. "Kreacher! Come to me."

With a pop, an old house elf appeared. Harry had never seen one looking so old and gnarled. The house elf snarled at Sirius as though at an enemy. Sirius frowned at him.

"What does my master want?" Kreacher asked, sounding disgruntled. He muttered, quietly, but loud enough to echo in the cave, "Cruel master who broke his mother's heart."

"We'll be quick, Kreacher," Sirius said, ignoring the latter. "Can you Apparate us to that island in the lake?"

Kreacher turned and Harry saw its eyes widen. Then, the house elf staggered backwards, crying out.

"No, no, no! No, Master Regulus! Not here, anywhere but here. Not again. No, I won't. I can't go there. The great Mistress help me, I won't do it!"

The house elf wailed, the most pathetic sound Harry had ever heard. He looked up at Sirius to find the man completely bewildered and horrified. Whatever the house elf had done before, Harry guessed he had never acted like this.

"What do you mean, Regulus?" Sirius asked, suddenly crouched in front of the screaming house elf. "What about my brother?"

"Your brother?" Harry asked, but both of them ignored him.

"Noooooo!" Kreacher wailed. "Poor master Regulus. Kreacher couldn't keep his promise. Noooo! Kreacher swore, but failed. Master Regulus would be so angry. Mistress, forgive Kreacher. Master Regulus, forgive Kreacher."

"Kreacher," Sirius said, his voice less gruff than before, his eye alarmed, and his voice sounding almost… gentle. "Kreacher, what happened? What does this place have to do with my brother? Kreacher, please."

Kreacher whimpered, but looked at Sirius with a cautious eye. His face sagged at the side, and he muttered to himself unintelligibly for a moment. Harry felt out of place, like he was watching something very personal. Sirius and Kreacher did not seem to see him and, indeed, almost appeared to have forgotten that they were in such a dreadful place. Both only saw each other and Harry and the dark cave with whatever lay within were left as witnesses.

"Master Regulus…" Kreacher began, his voice ragged and tired. "After Master Sirius ran away, breaking my Mistress's heart, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. One day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said… he said… he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."

Kreacher began rocking himself, looking very uncomfortable. He looked anywhere but at Sirius.

"You-Know-Who needed an elf?" Sirius interrogated. "What for?"

"Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher, it was an honour, Master Regulus said," Kreacher continued. "He ordered Kreacher to do what the Dark Lord wanted and to come home. So, Kreacher went to the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord took Kreacher to this cave. We rode a boat to the island. And there he had a basin of potion. The Dark L-Lord made Kreacher drink it. Kreacher saw terrible things… Kreacher's insides burned. Kreacher cried out for Master Regulus to save him, he cried out for the great Mistress, but the Dark Lord laughed. He made Kreacher drink all the potion and d-dropped a locket into the empty basin… He filled it with more potion. Then, the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island."

Harry and Sirius were still, listening.

"Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and drank from the black lake…and hands, dead hands came out and dragged Kreacher under the surface…"

"How did you get away?" Harry asked, horrified.

"Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to come back," Kreacher said, as though it was the most obvious thing. His eyes never left Sirius, however.

"And… and my brother?" Sirius asked, his eyes growing red and his voice choking.

"Master Regulus listened to Kreacher's story and asked to be brought here," Kreacher said. "He ordered Kreacher to take the locket when he finished drinking and leave him, to take the locket and destroy it. He told Kreacher to leave a fake locket in the basin. Kreacher could not stop him. Master Regulus ordered Kreacher. Kreacher saw the hands drag Master Regulus beneath the water and… oh, Master Regulus! Master Regulus ordered Kreacher not to tell the family. Master Regulus…"

The house elf dissolved into sobs, and Harry felt something harsh in his own eyes. The pain of the situation for the elf was tremendous. The sadness he had had to hide from the family, and live with alone for years… Sirius looked little better, kneeling in front of the elf. His face was torn between sadness and pity, and all of the dislike and anger he had shown towards the house elf had completely evaporated. The man reached out, embracing the little figure, and Kreacher did not pull away. They stayed that way for some time, and Harry stood looking at his feet, feeling the sadness and tragedy.

Voldemort. All of this was from him. It always came down to him. Every turn they made, he had gone out of his way to make lives terrible, broken families and brought sadness to all. He would stop him, Harry would. They all would. Whatever it took, this had to end.

Harry felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, a blaze of fire that had only been a dull burn before, and he felt himself falling hard on the rocky cave floor. A scrambled of movement rushed toward him, and he vaguely heard Sirius calling out his name as blackness took him.


	37. Chapter 37: Hollowed Shell

"Can I get some help?" Sirius asked, struggling to support a staggering Harry as they made their way across the lobby.

The young man hadn't said anything since his collapse, but was coherent enough to nod at his questions and could move under his own power, so far. How bad was that venom? He wished he had paid more attention in Care of Magical Creatures all those years ago. Mostly, they had just made a game of distracting other students while they tried to handle magical creatures. The chaos was often entertaining. It had never involved venom or bites, however.

"What's wrong with the lad?" asked a male Healer, rushing forward.

"He says he was spat on by a Lolabug out in a boat on the North Sea," Sirius said.

The Healer frowned. "That's a strange one," he commented. "They rarely attack unless you're in the water with them. Allow me to levitate you, lad. That's the way."

With a flick of his wand, the Healer had Harry hovering on air and led him off. Sirius followed and the man made no comment. If no one was stopping him, he would keep nearby. Coming to St. Mungo's was a gamble, but Sirius knew no better place for an injury, even if it was a Ministry controlled hospital. At least the Ministry had no idea where he was. There were some risks worth taking.

The Healer led the way into a ward just off the main lobby. A number of magical creature sounds and human moans filled the air. Healers whizzed around, not blinking or slowing down to look at the new arrivals. Harry was set down gently on a free bed near the door, just three beds down by Sirius' count. The other beds had their curtains pulled back, and Sirius was happy to see that was done by the Healer after he had taken a seat off to the far side of the bed.

The Healer, asked, "Where was he struck?"

"He said it was his… left one," Sirius said, looking at the boy. "Yes, where there is a bit of blood on the robes."

The Healer pulled back the robe from around Harry's neck to look at the wound. Sirius gasped. The skin had gone green and was beginning to swell around a central and very red spot.

"How long ago was this?" the Healer asked, frown deepening.

"He didn't say," Sirius answered. "I … ran into him back on the land, and he said he had been in a boat, so that could be hours. He was up and walking, talking when I saw him, though. He just collapsed not twenty minutes ago."

"Give me a moment," the Healer said, leaving the enclosure and re-sealing the curtain.

Sirius sat looking at Harry, waiting impatiently for the Healer.

"I should have brought you here the moment you mentioned the venom," Sirius said, feeling morose. "I just… I thought you'd bounce back. James always… but you're not your father. I know that. He would kill me if he saw me let you get like this. Then, Lily would get to work on me."

Harry said nothing, he tossed a little on the bed, and his eyes were closed, squeezing with acute pain. Sirius took Harry's right hand and held it. He just hoped the Healer would return quickly.

"I brought the jelly," the first Healer said, opening the curtain for an older, distinguished looking Healer.

"Show me," she said, adjusting her spectacles on her nose as she leaned over Harry.

"See here," the other Healer said, "and he's not sure how long ago the boy was hit."

"Ah," the elder said. "It was wise of you to bring me. Tell no one. Don't log this in the records. You are on a smoke break."

"I quit weeks ago," the other Healer said. "I know that stuff isn't…"

"You're relapsing," she said. "Common enough. Just be out there for the next ten. Alright?"

"S-sure," he said, bowing. "Thank you, Healer Monahan."

She turned back as he departed, taking the jelly he had put down, and began covering the wound with it. Without stopping what she did, Monahan began speaking in a low whisper to Sirius.

"You brought my ward great danger, Mr. Black, the both of you," she said, sparing no words on hesitation. "This salve will heal him ninety percent, but you need to take him immediately. I'm going to use a potion to jump start his consciousness. You have somewhere to take him for safety?"

"Yes," Sirius replied, not finding it possible to balk at her immediate recognition.

"Good," she said. "He will have energy for the next ten minutes, and then will be out like a light for at least thirty hours. He's exhausted already, and the sleep will do him good. His shoulder should be healed by then, as well."

"Th-thank you," he said.

"Don't thank me, yet," she said. "They may notice your arrival, in any case. Be ready to run. I cannot shield you."

"Understood," Sirius replied.

"Good," she said. "Don't wash this until he wakes. Here's the potion. Feed it to him after I leave and then get out. Too many have taken risks already."

Then, she went out the curtain, closing it with a snap, leaving Sirius holding a vial she had shoved at him. Watching the curtain flap for a beat, he dug out the cork and poured the contents down Harry's throat, hoping it did what she had indicated. Nothing happened.

Then, after Sirius had begun to worry, Harry hopped up, looking around. His mouth opened wide, but Sirius slapped a hand over it to keep him from crying out.

"We have to go," he said, looking at Harry. "Ready?"

Harry nodded, looking a bit shaky and confused.

"Follow me," the man said, helping Harry out of the bed. "Let's go."

They raced out of the ward and through the lobby, dodging past people that were milling around. Harry was right behind Sirius, his strength as full as Sirius would have expected were Harry fully healthy. They were just reaching the Apparition zone when a cry arose from the other end of the lobby.

"There they are!" cried one.

"Get them!" another called.

Sirius grabbed Harry's hand hard and spun, his thoughts already on the destination. Light and space blurred around them, and the grip on Harry's hand felt weak, ready to break. He tightened his hand hold to the point where it hurt, but he did not let go. They landed, hard, and he pulled open a door, closing it behind them. Harry sagged beside him, his eyes rolling up into his head and his body threatening to fall flat. Ten minutes? More like two.

"Kreacher?" he asked, slowly lowering Harry down.

"Yes, master?" Kreacher said, appearing around a corner. "Ah, the boy is still sick, yes?"

"He's healing and just needs sleep," Sirius said. "Could you make him a bed?"

"Yes, master," Kreacher said, bowing a little and disappearing.

Harry was laid down and sleeping in minutes. Sirius was heartened to see that the swelling and colour on his shoulder had reduced. Shaking his head, Sirius wandered out of the room on the first floor, sighing. He had been hunting the horcruxes for some time, and it had never been like this. Horcrux hunting was a private mission. Harry wasn't meant to be a part of it. Nor was…

Sirius realised his feet had carried him up two flights of stairs. He was standing in front of a room he hadn't entered in years. Over the door hung a sign stating, _Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black._ With a shaky hand, Sirius reached for the door knob and pushed it forward.

Dust leapt into the air, little specks caught the faint light from behind Sirius. Otherwise, the room was little different from how it had been long ago. The Slytherin coloured decorations were exactly as Sirius had last seen them. Regulus' painting of the Black family crest, with the motto _Toujours Pur_ (always pure) were no different.

Sirius sat on his brother's bed and fingered a photo of Regulus and his old Quidditch team on the wall. The room seemed so small, so empty. It had been so large when they were little. Regulus and he had had massive adventures spanning their rooms, individually and, sometimes, together. The house itself had had life, then, for him anyway.

Whatever had changed, Sirius didn't want to think about it. Maybe he had. He'd certainly changed some making friends with James and the others. But, maybe he had always been a bit out of place here. Memory was a poor judge of the way things had been. There was one time in this room he remembered clear as crystal.

"So, that's it then?" Sirius demanded. "Mum and dad say boo and you just go along with it? Just like every other time."

"What do you want me to do, Sirius?" Regulus asked, slamming his book shut and turning to look at him from his desk. "Rebel? Cause mum and dad a world of worry and pain, for what? Because you don't appreciate what our family has built over the generations?"

Regulus had stood and walked up close to Sirius, his face growing red.

"I want you to think for yourself Reggie," Sirius said, holding up his hands. "What do you think?"

"I think you've got some nerve yelling at dad that way, _Sirius,_ " Regulus said, emphasising the full name. "You know he's not always in the best health. And about what? Some rubbish about Mudbloods? They're a disease of the Wizarding world; it's about time you figured that out. Diluting the blood. Give them enough chances and there won't be any wizards at all."

"That's nonsense," Sirius said, throwing up his hands. It was the same old argument. "Some of the best witches and wizards I've met at school were half blood or Muggle-borns. Lily Evans-"

"Oh, do tell me more about your mate's filthy Mudblood girlfriend," Regulus growled. "If you read more instead of goofing off with that lot and bringing shame on the family, you'd know better than to mix with the likes of _that_ sort."

Sirius punched him in the face that day, and he could feel that, even now. It had hurt much more than his knuckles, and the burning anger in his brother's eyes filled the empty room, even now, accusing, hateful, hurt. Sirius looked down at his feet, trying not to remember, trying not to picture himself as he was, nor his brother then.

When he looked up, the eyes had left him, but the room itself did not. He hadn't seen his brother after that day. With all his family in a fury at him - again - Sirius had packed his things, what little he wanted to take with him, and moved away. Even had he been welcome, Sirius wouldn't have come back outside great need.

His first entrance after that flight had been after his incarceration. Everything was different, now. There was no mother or father or brother to throw slings of insults at him. There was nothing but the memories…

"Master?" Kreacher asked from the doorway.

"Yes, Kreacher?" he asked, hearing a half sob in his voice that he did his best to stifle.

"Master was interested in the locket of Master Regulus?" Kreacher asked, looking at his new master with something akin to hope.

"I- yes," Sirius said, shaking his dark thoughts away. "I aim to destroy it, as Regulus did. I expect I binned it, didn't I, when I purged the house of artefacts?"

He laughed, a hard, sad laugh that barely covered the trembling he felt within. Something felt broken, rattling about inside. Despair floated in the midst, and it was all he could do to hold it in.

"Master did take many heirlooms away," Kreacher said, sounding somewhat disapproving, but he went on. "Except the ones that Kreacher protected."

The house elf held out a hand and Sirius saw the faint light reflecting off the golden locket and glittering green stones. He couldn't see it well from here, but he knew. The green stones formed an S, the S of Slytherin. The house elf had kept the horcrux despite his efforts to dispose of it with the rooms full of rubbish he had gone through.

That uncertain spot in his centre seemed to shatter, and Sirius found himself on the ground, hugging himself and sobbing. He muttered incoherently, but Kreacher did not interrupt him. His thoughts fluttered from thought to thought like a butterfly in a whirlwind.

'Regulus, forgive me. I should have been there. You should have been able to rely on your brother, lean on him when you needed help. You shouldn't have been there alone. I should have stuck with you, by you, even as you leaned into darkness. I could have pulled you back. I should have. Oh, what have I done? What did I miss? You grew, you changed. I can see that. You had to finish growing up with no brother. No one should have to do that.'

Whether he said any of this aloud, Sirius couldn't have said. He had hated what they stood for, that elite pureblood hatred of the rest of Wizarding kind. He still would stand against it. But… Regulus. The poor boy had been enveloped by that rubbish from birth. He deserved a better brother, one who could have led him to … Despair rolled through him, and he sat there for ages, minutes, hours, who knew? The mourning he had never been able to allow himself for his brother had caught up with him, and it swept him away. Darkness fell, and his thoughts continued on. At some point, Kreacher had brought him a blanket and wrapped his shoulders in it. Sirius couldn't remember.

Somewhere in the house, another young man, very different from either Sirius or Regulus, was asleep and healing. Sirius was aware of this, vaguely, even as his thoughts were consumed with the past. His friends' son, the son of a Muggle-born his family would have looked down upon, shunned, and now that boy depended on Sirius being strong, being whole. He would have to set himself, find that strength. After all, they had another horcrux, and more to find. Regulus' killer was still out there - Voldemort. They could finish this. They would. 'Regulus, we will stop him. Brother, we will avenge you,' he thought.

Nothing would be the way he wished it could be. He would never get a chance to undo that terrible day or a thousand others that pained him. The past was gone, like the life this house had one had. Kreacher remained, though, as did he. And there were the others. James and Lily's boy. The Order. The Wizarding world. He breathed a sigh, the sadness still strong. But he stood, determined, picking up the locket that Kreacher had set on the desk nearby. Dinner first, then he would have to plan what came next. 'Tomorrow, tomorrow, brother,' he thought, 'tomorrow we start anew.'


	38. Chapter 38: Place of Need

Hermione tied back her hair, ignoring the admonishments of her fellow Gryffindor. She had to do something. What, she wasn't sure, but she would tear down Azkaban brick by brick if need be.

"You said you would wait for him," Neville said. "You promised."

"And he promised to be back by dawn," Hermione replied. "I can't wait. He might be in there, now. Harry might be a prisoner in Azkaban. Do you really want to leave him there to… to…"

"No," Neville said, "but we need to be sure he is there, don't we? It is a big risk to go there at all, but wasteful if he isn't. I'll be right there with you if we need to bust him out. He doesn't deserve to be there. Just give Albus a little more time."

"George?" she asked, looking to her friend. "What do you think?"

The young man looked between the pair of them with morose eyes. The fear for his brother etched into the corners of his eyes. George opened his mouth when a crack sound revealed a contingent of wizards and witches swiftly coming down the way. McGonagall and Sprout looked about in wonder and shock. Flitwick and Dumbledore had eyes only for the three of them. Neville stepped forward to greet them.

"Professors," he said, nodding to them, "and Albus, welcome to the Room of Requirement. Have you heard any-"

"Where is Harry?" Hermione asked, cutting in, her wand clenched in her fist unintentionally.

"I'm afraid, I do not know, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied sombrely. Before she could retort, he added, "but I am pleased to note, neither does the Ministry."

"What happened?" Hermione mouthed, sound hardly passing her lips.

Albus appeared to understand, though, continuing. "He apparently escaped his Auror guards into the North Sea and took a boat that was moored at the prison. As it is Muggle technology and he used no magic in the flight, the Ministry seem to have lost track of him. The Order is on alert and watching for him."

"And Fred?" George asked.

"Fred is in the Ministry," Dumbledore replied. "They are questioning him, but no more at this time. I expect they hope he can help them build a case against Harry for the Wizengamot, if they still abide by any of their own rules these days."

"So, how are we getting him out?" George asked.

"It will be better for Fred if they release him on their own," Flitwick piped up. "Otherwise, he will be undoubtedly pursued, as will you, Mr. Weasley."

"And likely your family would be questioned," McGonagall said.

"We advise waiting and watching, for the moment," Dumbledore said. "They seem to have their attention set on Harry."

A younger boy ran up, whispering in Neville's ear. Hermione only noticed it briefly, turning her attention back to the others.

"So, we need to find Harry before they do," Hermione said. "He might try to go to the Order or our hideout, or the house of someone he knows. The Trace is still active, so he will have to be careful about Apparition, so we should work out how he will get back."

"They will have taken his wand," George mused, "so he may have to skip magical transport altogether, like last…. time.

The young man trailed off, looking distantly and silence fell. Hermione watched him, curious. It was hardly like George, or either of the twins, to be without words.

"George?" she asked.

"His wand," George said, turning to look at all of them excitedly.

"They would have taken it," Hermione replied. "I agree with you there."

"No, his old wand," George corrected. "He left it by the sea, he said. When the barrier was up, right?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. "He did say it couldn't come through the barrier."

"Then, he's gone to get it," George said, smacking his hand with his other fist. "Our Harry wouldn't return defenceless."

Hermione frowned. "But we don't know where that is…"

"I think," McGonagall said, "that Mr. Weasley believes Harry will find his way back to us. He knows where we are, of course."

"Yes," George said, nodding vigorously.

"But, shouldn't we…" Hermione began.

"Sorry, Hermione," Neville said, giving her an apologetic look. "Something is happening out in the school, professors."

"Neville, what-?" McGonagall began, but Neville went on.

"A contingent from the Ministry," Neville said. "Apparently, the Minister himself has come. The H-Headmaster has asked for the Heads of House to meet at his office."

"Albus?" Flitwick asked, not specifying.

"Attend to your Headmaster," Albus said, looking at his old peers with a twinkle in his eye. "I have other business this morning."

The three House Heads departed, moving a bit more quickly than they had when arriving. Albus made no move to leave, however.

"Is that it, then?" Hermione asked. "We just need to wait here?"

"No," Dumbledore said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I have something that the three of you can assist me with."

"Did you think of something regarding the tree?" Neville asked, his eyes lighting up.

Albus shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Neville," he replied, solemn. "However, seeing this place has reminded me of a memory I had nearly dismissed."

"Memory?" Hermione asked, looking up at him.

The old man looked around, carefully, noting how far away the other student residents of the Room of Requirement were. Hermione watched him, curious. Albus was one for many secrets, but everyone in this room had no love of Voldemort or his kind. They were in hiding, at best.

"Some time ago," Dumbledore intoned, his voice quiet, not carrying as it often did, "just as He began to gain his followers, Riddle came to me to petition for the position of professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"What?" George asked. "Why?"

"He would not tell me," Dumbledore said, strolling towards the empty end of the room. "He only insisted he wanted the position. It was very important for him to have it, but I refused, of course. Word of his activity had reached me, even then, and I couldn't risk his presence among my students."

"But you think you know what he wanted," Hermione said, slowly, realising it just as she said it.

"Correct, Hermione," Albus replied, bestowing one of his benevolent smiles. "I believe you, at least, are familiar with the concept of horcruxes?"

"Yes," she replied, blushing as her two fellow students looked at her, confused. "Harry indicated you had Si- er someone looking for them?"

"Yes," Albus said, gesturing, "but we do not have to speak obliquely to Neville nor George."

When he didn't go on, Hermione turned to the other two, saying, "A horcrux is a terrible item. It holds a part of a person's soul, and while it exists that person cannot die. To create it, you need to k-kill someone, though. The … the act of killing someone is so terrible it breaks the soul into pieces."

George and Neville stared at her, looking stunned. Hermione waited, glancing at Dumbledore, but he gazed at them calmly, waiting.

"And you think You-Know-Who has one?" Neville managed, at last, sounding unsteady.

"I believe that he may have created several," Dumbledore said. "Sirius has been helping me identify and hunt down the horcruxes."

"So, he took something from the school to make one?" Hermione asked.

"That is possible," Dumbledore said. "Though, the only known artefact of the Founders that Hogwarts has held in my lifetime is the Sword of Gryffindor. He was not alone with the sword during the visit."

"But he may have merely been trying to get the sword?" George asked.

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "Which is what I have long considered. However, learning about this room has illuminated a new possibility. One thing I have long known about Riddle is his interest in both trophies and the value he holds for places that he associates with a part of himself. The horcrux Sirius has collected is a ring that was an heirloom in Riddle's mother's family. It was buried beneath the abandoned home his mother grew up in."

"Should we check where his father grew up?" Gerge asked.

"No, I would suspect not, George," Dumbledore said. "Riddle hated his Muggle father, prizing the wizarding blood that came from his mother's side, alone."

"So, Hogwarts would be perfect, then," Neville said, nodding. "It's a place of magic, and where he studied, right?"

Dumbledore nodded. "My thoughts, precisely, Neville," he said. "And where better to hide a thing of such importance than a hidden room few know about."

"Few?" Hermione asked, eyebrows rising. "From what we heard, the house elves always knew of it, and students find it from time to time."

"Few who would be searching for something he might hide, I should say," Dumbledore amended. "The Ministry is not filled with troublemakers who would have often had to hide something from the staff."

He nodded his head towards George with an amused look. George bowed, formally, sweeping an imaginary hat from his head as he did. Hermione shook her head, fighting a laugh. Those two were so proud of it.

"So, you can see what I am thinking," Dumbledore said, his eyes roving over them. "This room is a powerful tool and can hide from prying eyes what some would covet. If Riddle knew of it, he might surmise as I do, that something kept here would be well protected. No one knows this room as well as you three, save Fred and Harry, of course." He gave Hermione and George a compassionate look, at this moment. "I will seek out Harry, with any in the Order free to do so, and keep an eye out for Fred at the Ministry. Could you seek out the horcrux I believe he has placed here? It is of the highest importance that we find it."

"I- yes," Hermione said, hesitating but a second. She could hardly help Harry if she did magic and was caught outside. If Dumbledore was using his full might to find him and Harry got his wand back, he should be safe.

"Yeah, of course," George said as Neville answered, "I am here to help, He- Albus."

"Excellent," Albus said, clapping his hands together. "I know you can do it."

"Sorry, professor," Hermione said. "What exactly are we looking for? No doubt many troublemakers have hidden things here over the centuries…"

"It is likely an artefact of the Founders," Dumbledore said. "We do not have perfect records on all of them; however, the artefacts that are known about are the ring that we already have, the sword of Godric Gryffindor that is with Professor Snape for safekeeping, A cup which belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, a locket that was a possession of Salazar Slytherin and the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. From memories I have found in my long searching, I have uncovered that Riddle has found the cup and has a family connection to the locket. The whereabouts of the tiara has been unknown for centuries, unfortunately. The locket bears a unique marking of an S in green gems. The cup is wrought in gold with two handles and a badger engraved on the side."

"What's a diadem?" Neville asked, frowning.

"It is like a tiara or crown," Hermione said, nodding. "I read in Hogwarts: A History that they have a replica of the diadem in the Ravenclaw common room. So, a student of that house would be able to tell us if it matches."

"Ask only those you trust fully," Dumbledore said. "If even a hint that his horcruxes were being sought reaches Riddle's ears, he might collect any he can find and keep them close or move them to safer, more secure quarters. Now, I had best be off. I have Order members to visit and Harry to find. Thank you for your work here. I appreciate it fully."

"We won't let you down, Albus," Neville said.

"I know you won't," the man said with a smile. Looking at Hermione and George, he added, "Nor will I you two. The moment I hear of Harry, I will make him safe and inform you. Fred will be in our care as soon as I can manage."

"Thank you," Hermione said, wishing him best luck in that of all tasks.

Then, the Headmaster departed, sweeping away in a rush, his face full of urgency and determination. The three of them watched him go, before turning to each other.

"Neville," George said, "you know this place best. I think you should try first."

"I don't know it like Harry," Neville replied, "but I'll give it a try."

He closed his eyes. Hermione found herself closing hers, too, thinking about finding hidden things, willing the room to help them find things that are meant to be hidden, sending it the urgency and seriousness from her thoughts. When she opened her eyes, the room had expanded a thousand-fold.

The wall that had been a mere metre from them was now a Quidditch field away, if not more. In that new space, endless piles of rubbish and treasure, some glittering, some dull and dusty encompassed the space. Hermione's eyes roved over it, gawking at the teetering piles of furniture, magical objects and who knew what else. The size of it was staggering.

Hermione and George just stared. The job Dumbledore had given them could take anywhere from minutes (if exceedingly lucky) to weeks. She had never imagined that there would be so much hidden in this place. Troublemakers couldn't have managed this much on their own, surely. Perhaps every time they brought in new desks/beds or anything the old was hidden away by the house elves. A thousand years of rubbish had accumulated to make their task monumental.

"I think we're going to need more help," Neville managed from beside her.


	39. Chapter 39: A Safe Place

The second hand on the grandfather clock in the corner - an abberation in this space if McGonagall ever saw one - ticked by with a slow but echoing noise. As the otherwise silence drew longer, the sound itself felt louder and the interval longer. She knew it wasn't actually changing as there was not a drop of magic in it. Of all the changes Severus had brought to the Headmaster's office this year, a Muggle clock was the oddest. Still, he had given no more explanation of its presence than of any other change he had made in his time. But that was not the biggest concern, at the moment.

Sitting beside her were arrayed the other three heads of House, Sprout, Flitwick and Carrow. How one of the Carrows had been put in as a professor and immediately pushed to Head of House was impossible for McGonagall to reconcile. Still, too much had changed for her to make more of it than she had. Across the table, the Headmaster, Severus Snape, sat sandwiched by the pair of Lucius Malfoy and Minister Wincress. The latter sat back, calm and leisurely, his chair half a pace back from the other two, a glass of house elf made wine dangling, carelessly, between his fingers.

The tension had been steadily growing since they had sat down. The Minister had arranged the dinner to be brought to the Headmaster's office without informing any of them in advance. He had also separately called for all of them to appear there, including - as Minerva had just understood - the Headmaster. Since he had sauntered in, though, the Minister hadn't uttered a single word or acknowledged the greetings of anyone. He had sat there, idly, smiling and waiting, for what? After a day of rushing about the school on foolish errands directed by the Headmaster - though certainly originating from the Minister - McGonagall was happy for a moment to sit, and let none of her irritation at the mysteriousness show on her face.

The clock chimed, ringing six times with force, the last bell holding out for a long breath's time. Wincress smiled, leaned forward and steepled his hands over the empty plate that had been set on the table in front of him.

"So," he said, his voice cutting the relative silence like a knife, "you have no doubt heard we had a little disturbance outside of your fine school yesterday. Nothing the Aurors couldn't take care of, I assure you. A minor wanted figure and an accomplice. Nothing to trouble fine, upstanding members of our society, I am sure."

"I heard you caught the little ringleader, eh, Minister?" Amycus asked, his teeth showing wide in his mouth as he smiled.

"I can neither confirm nor deny whom our fine Aurors have detained," Wincress replied with a laugh. "Of course, no case is fully wrapped up with one detention, is it? Anyone found withholding information or aiding such persons would suffer the Ministry's displeasure."

His laugh never reached his eyes as he scanned the professors. He surely knew, as they did, that Harry had escaped. The hard look in Wincress' eyes confirmed that more than this odd dinner invitation. Suddenly, McGonagall felt her appetite disappearing completely. She kept her face still and stern. He was fishing for a reaction, hoping to find something of interest. That meant he had little idea where Harry could be. It was a heartening thought, if not for those in the room at present.

"Surely you do not believe one of my staff would assist in anything illicit?" Snape asked, his face showing that same tired and unpleasant expression he kept for most Ministry interactions. Many others, besides, of course.

"Have I said as much?" Wincress asked, a greasy smile engulfing his face. "I merely wish to assure you that no stone will go un-turned in pursuit of swift justice. The Ministry, of course, takes the welfare of Hogwarts and its students very seriously. Disturbing elements of society should not be allowed to persist. We can all agree on that, no?"

Without waiting for any answer, he looked down, saying. "Ah, food, perfect." The food had just appeared then.

McGongall hardly glanced down at hers. She watched the Minister as he cut up a steak and began to eat it.

"Sometimes, I wish we had these house elves to do the meals at the Ministry," he said, chuckling. "They could feed an army, that lot. One wonders if anyone has ever used them so."

"Not to my recollection," Flitwick answered, calmly. "I'm sure Professor Binns could verify."

"That ghost was teaching here when I was a proud Slytherin student," Wincress said, holding out his fork with a cube of meat upon the prongs. "Boring as he was barmy, but quite interesting lessons he taught. Indeed, with the wealth of history at our fingertips, it is a crime only to allow the same failures to repeat themselves. Is it not so?"

He looked around, but shrugged at the lack of approbation. "It is as it is," he said. "Did you know, in the annals of the Ministry, there is quite an interesting record on this very school? Some books there might have never had a second copy made, I would wager. A curious mind could find a thing or two to whet his appetite. Indeed, I have, in fact. You might not believe it, but a woman of the eighteen thirties made quite a study of the hidden secrets of Hogwarts.

"She knew of a dozen or so entrances to the school. There used to be a whole tower we've lost to time, too. Yes, it is true! Also, there is a room, a very special room, at the heart of the school. What it's original purpose was, well, the Founders alone may have known. Still, even in her era, it was often the refuge of troublemakers and scoundrels, from inside and outside the castle. Holed up in the deep chamber, they could go weeks, months without discovery. She believed there were secrets hidden there from the early years of the castle to present, hundreds of years of history, walled up in secret. Can you believe it? Haha!"

McGonagall felt a faint heat in her face, and fought to keep her expression neutral. Was this just speculation? Was he fishing, still? What did he know or think? And either way, what could she do to warn those in the Room of Requirement? Nothing while he was there. Later, maybe she could put in a quiet word to get them to safety. Later.

"A fanciful story, no doubt," Snape said. "With so many students and staff, it would be found before long. What caretaker wouldn't know the ins and outs of their charge?"

"It is little surprise not everyone would find it," Wincress said, gesturing vaguely at the Headmaster. "The method for entry is quite specific and intricate. A number of turns in front of a wall, a specific intention in mind. Oh, I would grant you not many would find it, save the truly desperate and depraved, or, of course, those they associate with. Still, it gives me little pain to be thorough. The safety of the Wizarding world is a heavy burden and drives the utmost need for surety. As the bell chimed to commence our dinner, a team of eight Aurors began infiltrating this 'Room' to ensure that no one has been squatting in our beloved castle. By now, I expect they will have cleared the space. It's best to be absolutely sure of these things, of course. You will no doubt agree that a threat from within is a very serious thing.

"Of course," he added, looking slyly across their faces, "I knew none of you would have assisted in such a thing. That would not be in keeping with your character and the value in Hogwarts and its staff. Yes, you were above any such suspicion. Others, well … we shall see."

McGongall stared at the man, struggling with her calm. It was a trap, but not for them - not only, in any case - but for the students hiding from the Ministry. He had known, and knew, also, that they could not have gone to help even if he had told them at the outset. He had dragged it out simply to torment them. The Minister's eyes glittered over his glass of house elf wine, watching them all with a smile.

Hermione wiped sweat from her brow, and slumped onto a ragged old sofa. The springs creaked under her weight, and the whole frame seemed to sink backwards, but it held. They had been searching for hours. How long, she was not sure, but it had been quite some time since she had seen the entrance and sleeping quarters. From the far end of the store of ... things … she could only see more of them, and the far wall, of course. The sounds of her companions went on in the slow clink of noise here the tumble of a small mountain clattering at being disturbed there. No one had been hurt, yet.

She found her lack of magical options frustrating. The cup or locket or diadem or whatever it was couldn't easily be summoned or shown via any spell she had thought of. After a few minutes, Hermione had thrown in the towel and followed the others while searching elbow deep in dusty and decaying wardrobes, behind all manner of books and rubbish. Even the books, which had had some promise of interest, proved to be nothing but old copies of textbooks or so worn out as to be nearly impossible to read. The lighting here, with towers blocking the Room's brightest torches, was not as great as she could wish, either. Again, they could spend weeks in here.

So, she sat and took her breath. They had done a lot, and she was getting ready to call it a day. Her shoulders were tired from leaning and reaching. Hermione's feet were aching from constant walking, too. The only thing that made her want to get back up and try some more was Harry. Wherever he was, he might not be able to rest. He could be working hard, trying to find his way back. With a sigh, she rose. Maybe she should go check in on the others. They had days of search left, no doubt. Whatever they did, they would need to be at their best for the next day. Sometimes you had to pace yourself.

Marching back down the long aisle, she stepped quickly around the larger piles and gingerly over the scattered debris from collapses new and old. The noises from walking were still distant, and echoing, to boot. Wherever the others were, she would try to signal them when close. Otherwise, all they would hear was some loud noises, like they had heard all day. In a cross way, she nearly ran head first into Neville. He stumbled back trying to avoid the collision.

He laughed when he steadied himself. "Sorry about that," he said. "I was looking to see if everyone wanted to see what the house elves had made for dinner. I think it's around that time."

"Yeah," she said, agreeing. "It's been a long one."

"I found a couple back that way," he said. "I'm just going down all the cross rows. Meet you back at the front?"

"Sure," Hermione replied. "I'm sure there will be plenty for everyone."

With a wave, he took off, looking for others. She continued on towards the front, zoning out as she slipped through the rubble. Oddly, it was starting to look familiar. She had passed this area some hours before. It all looked vaguely the same, but there were specific odd objects that caught the eye when passed more than once. A pair of very old and faded Quidditch robes, Gryffindor from the colours - though in a very different style than she had seen - hung from a coat rack that was half-swallowed by a mountain of cracked and worn broomsticks. A large, ornamental chest was bursting open with a prankster's hoard of brightly coloured fireworks. Would they even work after decades or centuries?

As she emerged from the large hiding space, she breathed a sigh of relief. The air still smell of mildew and old decay, but less than before. It was practically fresh, what with the whiff of wind coming from… Her eyes narrowed as she saw the entry door open, the hallway of the castle openly visible. That was when she really looked at the area ahead, the bunks and the long table they had materialised for the residents.

Instead of empty or full of students reading or reclining, a half dozen figures in dark robes crept around, wands drawn. Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed movement to her right, near one of the other high piles of rubbish. Her wand was in her hand in a blink, and she aimed at the figure to the right, the only one in close range, but he was gone, lost in the piles. Then, her thoughts flew to the others. They would be defenceless!

Slipping backwards quietly and carefully, she put a large pile between her and the men searching before she ran, sprinting and stumbling but continuing until she reached the cross way. Turning to and fro, she groaned. No one was visible. Well, she knew which way Neville had gone, so she turned right and moved down the rows, turning left and right briefly at each crossing. She only wished the place weren't so twisty. It was hard to see more than a dozen paces in either direction, sometimes only a few.

A sound behind her, brought Hermione around, just as a jet of red came at her. It missed her head by a hair's breadth. She could feel the warmth of the spell as she brought her wand up. "Petrificus Totalis!" she cried, missing her target but sending a tower of hundreds of items tumbling onto the cloaked figure.

He was buried with a cry. Not waiting for him to rise, Hermione slipped down the nearest cross way, away from the entrance. She ran, stumbling over many rock-hard objects that were strewn across the path. The heat in her legs had grown to a fire, but she didn't slow down. They were coming.

An explosive blast came from a few aisles down, and Hermione could see items flying through the air when she looked back, the air above the piles alive with colour and motion. That was when the cries and screams came from everywhere and chaos really took over the Room. The aisle ahead of Hermione was crushed by a falling pile of furniture from two rows over. She sent a spell into the pile to the left, crying, "Reducto!" and watching objects shatter apart and the pile itself heaved away from her. Hermione leapt over the remaining items into a new aisle, and had to duck immediately as a streak of red shot over her head.

"Hermione?" Neville asked, coming over to help her up. "Sorry, I saw someone leaping in here after me. I thought you were… what is going on?"

"I don't know," she said. "But we need to go. Someone has broken into the Room."

"How many are there?" he asked as they ran away from the entrance.

"I saw several, at least," she said. "And they're good. Aurors? Death Eaters?"

"Have you seen any of the others?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I heard some cries, but I haven't seen anyone except the intruders," she said, panting. "One of them nearly hit me."

"We need to get out of here," he said. "I don't know how to get the Room to send people away when they don't want to go."

"Do we need to get to a wall?" Hermione asked.

"I don't … maybe," he said. "Unless you could do whatever you did to send Harry away."

"He landed in Gibraltar," Hermione said, wryly. "I'm not sure we would be that lucky twice."

An explosion sounded ahead of them, and the perimeter of the aisle crumbled. Neville covered his head as dolls rained on them. "We can still go this way," he said.

They reached the end of the row and Neville willed a door into being. He opened it as students sprinted out of the other aisles, hands over heads, wands waving wildly, but in one piece. George burst out of a pile, throwing spells behind him as he went. With a relief, Hermione realised they were all accounted for, miraculous as that sounded.

Neville waved them through as Hermione guarded the other way, looking carefully around the aisles nearby. The students had just passed through when a robed man came out almost on top of Hermione.

She shouted, "Petrificus Totalis!" as George yelled the same, and in a flash of two spells, the man fell, his face staring up at them, indignant, eyes twitching between the pair of them.

"By Merlin's Beard," George said. "That's an Auror!"

"The Ministry broke in?" Hermione asked.

"Let's go," Neville said from the open door. "We can sort out what happened later."

"Wait," Hermione said, pausing at the door. "What about the tree? And the other thing?" she added in a whisper to him.

"We can't go back for it," Neville said, keeping his voice soft, too. "With any luck, they'll realise we all got out, close the door when they leave and the school will take care of it. The Headmaster will just have to work the other thing out later."

"Can we depend on that?" she asked.

"We can't go back in for it," George whispered, urgently. "We have to go. Hermione, there's a time to stand and fight and a time to run. If those are Aurors out there, we can't fight and make it back. That is not what Harry would want, is it? We need to run."

Hermione looked between the open door and the chaotic aisles. The sound of stamping feet approaching neared, growing louder. With a sigh, she stepped past Neville and George into the hall beyond, and he shut the door, leaving the room far behind, though the Room was everywhere and nowhere in the school. That still left them in the halls of Hogwarts with the Ministry actively searching for them. Finding somewhere to hide would not be easy.

"Where do we go, Neville?" one of the younger girls, a Hufflepuff hugging her shoulders asked.

"Neville?" an older boy asked.

Neville frowned, then nodded. "We'll have to leave the school. I'll see if I can warn Ginny so she doesn't get caught up in all that. Hermione, can you lead the rest down out through the back courtyard, that way? No one would look there first. It's the furthest from the edge of the grounds and near the Forbidden Forest. With any luck, we can slip through there to lose them."

"But you're coming, too, right?" Hermione asked as he turned. "They've seen your face."

"I can tell Ginny," George said.

"No," he said. "You shouldn't be here, and I won't get caught. I just need to keep Ginny and any others out of trouble. Vinken, for that matter."

"Master Longbottom," said a squeaky voice from behind them. "How happy Vinken is to see you all safe. The house elves were watched by the Ministry until they had entered the Room. Vinken had worried."

"We're alright," Neville said, "I'm glad you are not in trouble. Can you warn Ginny and the others to stay away? We're going to escape."

"They have been warned already," Vinken said, bowing. "Now, come. Vinken show you sneaky way out."

He led the small group through a banner into a thin stair that wound down, somewhere far beneath the school. There were no torches, but Hermione had no trouble seeing as they descended. She found herself wondering if Harry had ever known about this one, but dismissed it. It became clear as they went why the house elves would favour it. The walls closed in until Hermione could barely squeeze through. The younger students had no troubles, but Hermione saw George ahead of her wince as he struck his head on the ceiling twice. Hermione had entered last, and glanced back over her head periodically to look for signs of pursuit. Fortunately, the only movement she saw or heard was ahead of her.

They emerged onto a low, running tunnel, one Hermione had never seen before. It ran as long as the one from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow, but was dry and solid stone the entire way. It also didn't alternate in heights like that one had. Hermione marvelled at the oddity of entering and leaving the school through such ludicrous tunnels. What had happened to the leisurely strolls across the grounds they had once enjoyed? The walks around the lake with Harry and… She shook her head. Focus. There were still Aurors out there.

After an age, they came to a halt, and light entered, faint as evening light could be. To her surprise, the tunnel ended in a door that opened out of the side of a large tree. She stared back at it as Vinken shut it, carefully. He smiled at them all.

"The edge of the wood is that way, about twenty paces," Vinken said. "We are far from Hogsmeade and students and staff never come here. You should be safe here."

"Thank you, Vinken," Neville said. The others, including Hermione mirrored him in their own thanks, all of it coming in a rush.

"It is the house elves duty," he said, bowing. "The house elves of Hogwarts always defend the students."

He Disapparated, leaving them in the near darkness of dusk. With a sigh, Hermione pulled out her wand, lit it and pointed in the direction Vinken had indicated. The night was far from over, and they had a long way to safety.

"Hermione?" the young Hufflepuff asked.

"Yes, was it Claire?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, I'm Claire," the girl replied. "I … f-found something b-b-b-before the bad men came."

Before Hermione could ask what, the girl pulled a tiara out of her pocket, faint etchings of words caught Hermione's wandlight, saying, "… without measure is…"


	40. Chapter 40: Orders

"Out of my way," Bellatrix shouted, pushing the door into the house elf at the door.

It fell back, out of sight, but had never once been on her mind. The door could have opened for itself as much as that mattered. She was in a hurry. The halls, old and distinguished, with only the finest embellishments and artefacts from Wizarding history, was no more important than anything else in her way.

Her anger had been growing for the past hour. The note in her pocket was crumpled into a fine ball, the creases worn from repeatedly opening and re-balling it. She had had a hard enough time believing it. Yet, here she was.

Pushing through into the study, Bellatrix growled, "Lucius. You had better have a good reason sending me into that den of ruddy goblins! Filthy little…"

Her voice caught in her throat as she saw that it was not - in fact - Lucius Malfoy who sat in his large, ornate chair behind the elf-crafted mahogany desk. No, Lucius stood off to the side, idly fingering through his library of ancient, terrible dark magic tomes.

"My Lord!" she cried, bowing low. "I apologise. I did not understand that…"

"That I might ask dear Lucius to assist in a matter of great, delicacy?" Voldemort asked, his voice clearly amused.

Bellatrix raised her head, relieved. When Voldemort was amused, he was enjoying his superiority in mind or skill at the expense of others. Although she did not relish looking lower in his eyes, his amusement far surpassed his ire. That would be mortifying, and there had been too many shamed of late. Bellatrix had avoided that, so far.

"I have brought what you requested, my Lord," she said, reaching into her robes. "No one saw what I retrieved, and I … _convinced_ the goblin who guided me in he ought to walk off of a ledge in the deeper vault areas. Tragic, I am sure."

Bellatrix set the wrapped parcel on the desk. She could practically feel Lucius' eyes on it from the corner of the room, though she was sure he was doing his best impression of a library patron. The wrapping had not been on the object in her vault, of course. It was _her_ vault after all. The dragon was plenty of protection for some, but her family had spared no expense in other defences.

"You have done well, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, pocketing the object without hesitation. "The failure of the Aurors to capture those pawns of Dumbledore in the Room convinced me to check on other _vital_ artefacts of mine. This one, at least, is safe. Lucius, lend me one of your house elves. I have another to retrieve that would be most simple with their assistance."

"As you wish, my lord," Lucius said, turning as though he had not heard anything preceding. "I will have one come at once."

"Hold," Voldemort said, holding up a finger. "I will see your elf in the entrance room. I must have a word with Macnair."

He departed, and Bellatrix almost laughed at the look of frustration that raced onto and away from Lucius' face as Voldemort walked away. The old fox was always looking for an advantage. Seeing him denied hearing what he wanted to hear ? amused her. Bellatrix quite enjoyed being on this side of amusement.

"Of course, my lord," he managed, just as the door was shutting. Then, his lips fighting a snarl, he commanded, "Dobby! Come!"

The house elf that must have been Dobby appeared at his master's side, looking up at Lucius. Bellatrix was pleased to see minor burns of the elf's hands. Too many had not learned the proper price for failing a master or mistress. Lucius - for all his faults - was at least worthy to be a brother-in-law in some areas. His servants knew their place.

"Yes, master?" Dobby asked. "What can Dobby do for master?"

"You will assist our Lord," Lucius said, "and assist him well. Should I hear you made the slightest inconvenience in his needs, I will make you regret it. Understood?"

"Yes, master," Dobby said, bowing.

"He will meet you in the entrance," Lucius said. "Only when our Lord is done with you, return. I do not wish for you to think this allows you to neglect your other duties."

Bowing again, Dobby Disapparated, leaving Bellatrix with Lucius. The man picked up a glass of his favourite firewhiskey and raised it, "To the Dark Lord," he said, nodding to her in a knowing way.

"Just the sort of courtesy I would expect of the house of _Malfoy,_ my sister, excluded," Bellatrix said. "Offering a toast before getting your guest a drink."

"You have never touched a drop of anything I have ever served you, _Bella_ ," he said, chuckling before taking another sip. "I'd hate to waste such a fine bottle."

"Why did He have you write the note?" Bellatrix asked, casually. "I'd have hardly refused H _is_ command."

"He hardly has time for everything," Lucius said, smirking in that way only he could, "and yours was hardly the only one that needed writing. Perhaps, moreover, _He_ just trusts his humble follower to do his bidding." He touched his chest as if to emphasise which follower he had meant.

Bellatrix took a deep breath, fighting the failing fight against rolling her eyes. Then, she shrugged. "Whatever, Lucie," she muttered. "I've done what _He_ needed. Give my best to Cissy. I've got better things to do tonight."

"Before you go," Lucius said, chuckling as she reached for the door knob, "I'd like to congratulate you on losing the little twit. How much did you pay that Auror to let him free?"

Bellatrix paused, not turning. "I don't know what you mean," she replied. "I assumed you were the one who had someone on that. Hmm. The all-knowing Lucius Malfoy didn't know something. Interesting."

Then, she pushed the door open and walked through it, not waiting for him to respond. The door shut with a click behind her. The games some of these Death Eaters played… Ugh. So annoying. All the plays for power and position. Her position was always there for the Dark Lord. He was what she did this for… and the fun, of course. The games weren't fun. Who had time to mess with that when there were Muggles to torment. And wizards. She wasn't fussy.

"Bellatrix," Voldemort said, catching her by surprise as she reached for the front door handle.

"Y-yes, my lord?" she asked, restoring her calm. "Do you have a task for me, my lord?"

"There is a brat of the … Weasley clan," he said, his face expressionless, "held by the Ministry. He might know where the boy is. What he knows, I want you to know. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," she said, bowing her head. Smiling at him, she added, "It would be _my_ pleasure."

Turning, she took the door handle and opened it, stepping into the darkness. Cloaked in her favourite element, Bellatrix grinned all the way to the gate. Even those frivolous… peacocks that Lucius chose to leave free to roam about the grounds could do nothing to dampen her new mood. A direct command from the Dark Lord, and that to follow her favourite task? That would turn a terrible day around immediately. That the target was one of those festering blood traitors? A bonus.

With a twirl of her robe, Bellatrix Disapparated as she stepped out of the grounds, landing lightly a moment later with her heels clicking satisfactorily on the hard, dark tiles. The hour was late, but that was helpful, if anything. Not that she should really be concerned, not here, not anywhere. She could sit on the Minister of Magic's desk and he wouldn't say a word against it. She had, in fact. Another fun memory.

A young security wizard stood from his desk as she swept across the lobby, but she gave him no mind. If he tried to stop her, he'd learn better. If he recognised her, he was sure to let her go. It only took once for them to learn. As she passed him, she heard a lovely gasp. He _did_ recognise her. Her smile broadened. This was certainly her night.

When the lift opened, Bellatrix strolled into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Irritating the Aurors who actually cared about their jobs was one of the best perks of the way things were, now. The same group that had tracked her down and sent her to Azkaban were under the Dark Lord's thumb, much like the rest of the Ministry. She could do whatever she felt like.

"Hey, you shouldn't be in here," a young man said, stepping away from a cluttered desk and holding up a hand.

"I can do what I want," she said. "And I want to see the Weasley boy."

"I'm sorry, miss," the boy said, shaking his head. "Visiting hours are over. Only department members are allowed here."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "You children can be so irritating," she muttered, flicking her wand at him, and sending a red beam of light flying at him.

The boy flew back, bouncing off his desk and hit the wall behind with a resounding thud. She cackled. His body had moved more like a doll than a full grown man. Younger people were always a bit of fun, weren't they? With a wicked grin, she swept past the glaring, unmoving official. They wouldn't have had the Weasley out here, anyway. Surely, he was in an office for the interrogation.

"I know a demand would be ignored," Madam Bones said, flicking her wand at the young man. "But I would request you ask for me before manhandling my staff, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Bellatrix saw him stir out of the corner of her eye, and frowned. Of all the Ministry officials to find, it had to be this one.

"Well, I knew it would draw someone out," Bellatrix said, chuckling. "Throw enough cheese and the rats will come to look."

"You'd know a lot about rats, in your… profession," Madam Bones said. "Now, let's not mince words. You wouldn't come here for a casual visit. What is it you want?"

"I'm after the Weasley boy," Bellatrix said, showing her teeth to the woman. "He knows things, and I … might give him incentive to tell."

"As much as I know you have a love of pursuing truth," the other woman said, her voice thick with satire, "I must regret to inform you that you have missed him. The Minister sent word to release him upon the hour of seven."

"Now, why would he do a fool thing like that?" Bellatrix asked.

"You will have to ask the Minister that," Madam Bones replied, her voice crisp as she polished her nails on the sleeve of her robe. "If that is all, I would ask for a little peace in my department. I expect the night staff will need an hour or more to make up for the mess you've caused. I'd hate to have to tell the Minister why that report is delayed."

"My my," Bellatrix commented, smirking, "the cat can play, even with its claws trimmed. Don't think I will forget it."

"Remember what you will," Madam Bones said, shortly, "but please do it somewhere else!"

"I see that the Ministry is not so polite a host as it once was," Bellatrix said, striding out the door. "There are some who would find that quite interesting…"

Then, she let the door shut behind her. As interactions went with Amelia Bones, that could have been much worse. The old hag was always surly with her, no matter how many times the Minister reprimanded her for it. Still, there had been no shouting, nor spells cast. Considering Bellatrix's entering move was to disable her staff, that was nigh on remarkable. The lift carried her to the lobby, where Bellatrix paused, ignoring the gaping look from security.

In all the world, where would a Weasley go when he was let free from Ministry questioning? Home was an obvious, but unlikely option. If they had two brain cells to bang together, the twins would have moved out of their shop with the Ministry circling around as it was. That left one option Bellatrix was aware of, an irritant. Whatever Dumbledore had done, it had left the Burrow unreachable by the Ministry or anyone since last week. She herself had tried, in fact, when word had gone around. Everyone save the Dark Lord himself had made an effort, and he was not one for broad open statements.

If the Weasley twin knew about the barrier they had put on the Burrow, he would have fled there. That did not, in the least, excuse her mission. The Dark Lord had asked, and she could only succeed. She would go to the end of the earth for him, without hesitation. A barrier was an impediment, not perfect protection. She would watch the shop, watch the area around the house, Diagon Alley, wherever he might otherwise go. He had to step out into the open at some point. Bellatrix would be waiting, and she could be quite… patient.

Soon, Fred Weasley would be in her grasp. Fred first, then Harry Potter. He was the Dark Lord's, of course. That didn't mean she had to deliver him in perfect health, physically or mentally. She never promised that about anything. With a smile and a twirl, the woman left, leaving a dead silent lobby in her wake.


	41. Chapter 41: A Lesson

Harry blinked and sat up, suddenly. His head spun, but the room coalesced into a single image immediately. It was faintly light here, and it took him a moment to recognise that it was a bedroom. But, where was he?

Looking around, Harry found his wand on a side table. That was a good sign. Whomever had brought him here had not taken it away. Not the Ministry, then. Shaking his head, Harry tried to clear the cobwebs. He was hazy on what had happened before he awoke. They had been… delivering that tree to the school. Yes, that was right. He and Fred had gone to meet people, but then, what? He scrunched his eyes, concentrating.

With a gasp, the whole of it came back: the capture, the escape, Sirius and the truth about the locket. That was where he lost track. A part of him thought maybe he had run through a … lobby? But that could have been a dream. No, it must have been. Dreams didn't always make sense, even in the Wizarding world.

Harry felt his shoulder. It stung, still, but was less intense than before. The thing, whatever it was, had hit him with some liquid that burned. It wasn't inflamed. The shoulder felt normal to his great relief. If he was really lucky, this was where Sirius had taken him. He would not assume that, but the fact that his wand was handy was a very good sign. The next question was, how long had he been out?

The door opened, and Harry had his wand raised immediately, on instinct. He lowered it when he saw that a house elf had entered and was watching him closely. Its old, gnarled face frowned at him, and the elf grumbled under his breath.

"Little … boy seems to have woken. Master should know of this."

"Master?" Harry asked, frowning. "Is- Are you Kreacher? Is this Sirius' house?"

"Master will deal with you shortly," the house elf grumbled, departing and shutting the door.

Harry sighed. He was pretty sure that was the house elf he and Sirius had seen in the cave. Kreacher had been its name, and Harry was pretty sure he hadn't met a house elf like him at the school. That didn't mean he could not be mistaken. There were many house elves. Not wanting to risk a Death Eater coming through the door while he remained lying down, Harry pushed himself out of the bed and strode to the door, his wand in hand.

The door opened before Harry could reach for it, and he retreated a step, his wand rising. It dropped when Sirius Black stepped through into the room. The man looked tired, his eyes were red and his jaw was tense, but a twinkle shown in his eyes when he saw Harry up and facing him.

"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed. "You seem much better. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Harry replied. "How long was I out?"

"A day or so," Sirius said. "Can you walk? Kreacher is preparing a hearty meal. I think you'll need it."

As if in answer, Harry heard his stomach growl, loudly.

"Y-yeah, I think I should," he managed.

Harry followed the man downstairs through a dimly lit stair which barely obscured dingy, old walls and dusty framed paintings. A particularly disturbing framed set of house elf heads passed without a word from Sirius. The man was being particularly quiet. Frowning, Harry opened his mouth, but Sirius put a finger to his lips as they passed a large curtained-off section of a wall. Harry couldn't be sure, be he could swear the curtain moved, as in a breeze or from close breathing.

When they had found what Harry expected was the entrance hall, Sirius directed him down a separate stair into the kitchen. Only then did the man speak.

"Sorry about that," he said. "My mother's portrait is up in that hall, and she… er … has quite a voice on her when she's disturbed. None too friendly to guests, well, or myself, really. And, she must have used a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back, so I can't move it somewhere else in the house."

"Oh," Harry said. "S-sorry to hear that."

"My family was- well, never mind," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, tired and hungry," Harry said.

"Well, I can help you with one of those," Sirius replied, waving Harry to take a seat where a plate heaped with food had just appeared. "The other may just take time. Apparently, the venom of Lobalugs can be pretty nasty. I read up on them after we'd gotten you healed and brought back here."

"Lobalugs?" Harry asked, sitting and digging a fork into the beans as he reached for the knife. "That sounds familiar, but I…"

"They are pretty rare," Sirius said, shrugging and sitting across from him. "They can only live in the North Sea…"

"Ah, that… that makes sense," Harry replied. He could feel the man's eyes on him, observing. "Is something wrong?"

Sirius smiled, shaking his head. "The last time you were up, you collapsed in a heap in the entry, Harry," he replied. "Go ahead and eat all of that. Build up your strength."

"What's going on?" Harry asked, cutting up some bacon and raising the fork to his mouth. "Is there news from outside?"

"I haven't spoken to anyone yet," Sirius said. "I wanted to make sure you were feeling better, first."

"I just… Fred might be in trouble," he managed.

"And why is that?" Sirius asked, looking curious.

"I- we-," Harry began, trying to figure out how to move away from the uncomfortable topic.

Sirius folded his hands in front of him. "You brushed off the subject the last time we spoke," he stated. "I may be an adult, but I remember well the temptation to hide my troubles from the adults of my youth. You can trust me, Harry. I'm not going to scuttle off to your professors to earn you a detention."

"It's not that," Harry said, looking down at his plate.

"Then, what?" Sirius asked, sounding nervous. "You're scaring me a bit, Harry. Here, I thought I was … still like you kids, and you're treating me like a Magical Law Enforcement officer questioning you. Have I really gotten that old?"

He looked over at a mirror on the far end of the kitchen, frowning at his face and scratching at his beard. "Is it the beard?"

Harry nearly laughed. Something in the man's way of speaking reminded him of the twins, given a few years - of course -, but the humour was the same. He settled on shaking his head and fighting down a smile.

"I just," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "I know this won't be pleasant to hear. Fine. Alright. The Ministry caught Fred and me in the woods near Hogsmeade. We were there on Order business. Fred was taken for questioning, and they took me to Azkaban. I mean, nearly. One of the Aurors helped me escape into the waters. He gave me gillyweed and staged a scene of sending me into the water to drown. I took a boat from the pier and escaped before the dementors could come back around. That's how I ended up on the shore with you, that's why I needed my old wand back."

Sirius sat back, quiet, considering. Harry felt his nerves grow. Would Sirius, of all people, tell him off for recklessness? Would he drag him off to the Weasleys for Molly to really get down to telling him off properly? What would he think?

"Needs work," Sirius managed, after a time.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"You have to make it more dramatic than that," Sirius said. "Like, the dementors nearly had their hands on you when you got the boat moving, maybe even throw in a few Aurors chasing and flinging spells over your shoulder as you slipped away. And you completely skipped the foul beast of the deeps that you fought tooth and nail. He got the worst of it, of course. That's how you sell a story."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You really are just like Fred and George," he said.

"More a compliment to them than to me," Sirius said, eyes full of excitement and mischief from his years at Hogwarts.

"Speaking of Fred," Harry said, interrupting the man's reverie, "how are we going to save him?"

"You aren't going anywhere," Sirius said, adding a quick, "yet. I'll find out what's going on out there. For all you know, Fred's been released. No sense storming the Ministry to retrieve no one. Are your other friends safe?"

"I… I don't know," Harry realised, falling against the backrest of the chair. "Hermione could be in trouble and I… I was so focused on us. She and George were meant to meet us in Hogsmeade at the Shrieking Shack, but the Aurors were searching the houses and we assumed they would leave like we tried to do…"

"I'll check on them, too," Sirius said. "Albus is bound to know what is what. He always seems to. Finish that."

He pointed at the half-eaten plate as he stood up. "If you want anything more, ask Kreacher. I'll come back when I have some news. I know it's like the kettle telling the pot not to heat up, but please wait. You need your strength, and information. Okay, maybe I am an old man, now. But your parents would literally come back to life to kill me if I let you get hurt while you were healing here. We'll talk more when I get back."

He sighed as he walked out of the kitchen. Silence fell, and Harry watched the closed door for a moment before he dug his fork back into the egg and continued eating. His thoughts wandered. How was Hermione? Was she safe? He hoped that she was, but was sure she would be worried if he had not come back to their hiding place in so long. Sirius would make sure she knew he was alright. George would have been with her, too. He was sure, if they had been caught, that they would all end up in the same place as Fred. The three of them together were a formidable force, no doubt. The Ministry had no direct reason to implicate Hermione. He was the one they had been after, right?

Harry's eyes wandered to the end of the table. It was long, enough to feed a small army, and he sat alone in silence. But, at the end of it, he could see a few objects left scattered. He wondered if this was what Sirius had been looking at when he awoke. Taking the last couple bites of the egg, Harry stood, chewing on a final slice of toast as he walked over to the end. The bread nearly slipped through his fingers at the discovery.

A brown mat had been placed on the table surface - to protect it, he assumed - and upon that lay two items that drew his eyes immediately. One was a gold ring with a singular black gem at the end. The other was a gold locket, inset with emerald green gems that formed the shape of the letter S. This must be the locket, the actual locket that Sirius was looking for!

He picked up the ring, first. Its black gem was not, as he had first thought, flawless. Upon the head of the gem, he could see some markings, like a triangle cut with a line and inset with a circle. He turned it over before setting it back down. For all appearances, it could be just an ordinary ring. Harry had thought it might have… something strange about it. At least nothing he could sense at first blush. Lifting the locket, he turned it over and tried to open it.

The locket would not open, no matter how much he pried at the edge. He suspected, if Sirius had had it for a day or more, the man would have attempted to open it, himself. If Sirius couldn't open it, then some magic must be upon it to keep its contents a secret. He set it beside the ring, two ordinary objects - if aged and fine in make. They could have sat - unnoticed - on a shelf in any old wizarding family's house for generations without anyone questioning it.

Horcruxes. For all their evil and the cruelty of their creation, Harry could not immediately sense that in them. His stomach curled at the thought of what they were, though. They needed to be destroyed, utterly. He grimaced at the objects. They were artefacts of an older time, but he knew little of their origins beyond that.

One had belonged to Salazar Slytherin, himself. And, whatever he might have thought about blood purity, Slytherin was still considered one of the greatest wizards in history. The other object was curious. It must be a horcrux if the other was, but the symbol meant nothing to him. It might belong to another founder or some other great wizard of history. It was sad, in that way, that they had to destroy these relics of greater wizards or witches. It wasn't _their_ fault that the objects they owned or empowered had been corrupted in this way.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! The abrupt flood of Apparitions from outside jolted Harry into awareness. His wand was ready. Could the enemy find this place or…?

The door burst open, and Harry was overrun before he could move. Arms surrounded him and he was pinned, held still as Molly nearly crushed his arms in one of her deep hugs. Other red-head Weasleys were there, and behind various members of the Order: Albus, Sirius, Remus… It was a bit of a blur. When he was finally able to breathe and could look at them properly, Harry found the other entrants were Arthur, Charlie, and Bill Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks. He looked around at them in the brief silence after the great fussing.

"We are glad you are back with us, Harry," Albus said, standing by the door, but his voice filling the space. Everyone turned to him. "We have been looking for you. Had I known Sirius had found you, it would have given us great relief."

"Th-thanks," he managed. "Are Fred, Hermione and George alright?"

Albus frowned, and opened his mouth when Molly jumped in.

"Fred is home," she said, patting his shoulder comfortably. "He wanted to come, but the Ministry has people watching. I think they want to see where he goes even more than they do the rest of us."

"Did they follow you?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"You don't think we'd bring danger, do you, Harry?" Arthur asked, a note of amusement in his eyes. "Not after what you've been through."

"I just don't want you to get caught up in it," Harry said. "They're after me… Wait. Fred is home, what about George and Hermione?"

"They…" Molly said, then stopped, fighting a tremble in her lip.

"What happened?" he asked, his grip on his wand tightening in his pocket.

"The Aurors invaded the Room of Requirement," Bill said, speaking up and looking Harry straight in the eye. "The Minister told the professors at the school after they went in. However, the people watching at the school saw no one leave with the Aurors, and a few of them looked worse for the wear. Apparently, the Minister left in a huff. They have a watch on the room, but Hermione, George, Neville and the rest got away."

"So, where are they?" Harry asked. "Have they made contact?"

"Not yet," Albus said, his voice assured. "I expect those three are moving carefully. There will be a dozen or so students with them. When they have found us, we will bring them to a safe place."

"We can expand our hideaway," Harry said. "It can hold a handful already. With a little bit more work…"

"My family's house is at your service, Albus," Sirius said, bowing. "Kreacher and I would be glad to house anyone needing protection."

"Thank you, both," Albus said, nodding in each direction. "Some may seek refuge with family or abroad, and we will assist in that, but there maybe some needing to take you up on your offers. For now, we have had an escalating danger, and a clear priority."

He stepped forward through the parting crowd to the table, his eyes fixated on the two objects Harry had just been observing. Harry was sure the old man had observed the ring longer than the locket with a strange look in his eyes, but maybe he was as curious as Harry about its different heritage. Then, Albus looked up, his eyes rolling over each of them.

"You are among the very few I have confided in the existence and hunt for His horcruxes," he said, his breath thin, quiet. "These are two that Sirius has collected for us, and - if we are fortunate - Miss Granger and Mister Weasley may have found one in the school, before their departure. With the destruction of each of these, our enemy is closer to his defeat."

"But how do you destroy them?" Sirius asked. "I tried every destructive spell that I could think of."

Harry wondered if the mat also doubled for a cover of previous failed attempts to burn or blast the items. Sirius sniffed at the things, though, looking frustrated.

"Very few spells or substances can have the effect we need," Albus said. "A horcrux must be destroyed, utterly, as a vessel, for the horcrux to fail. We could all pull our wands out and blast them as one, and there wouldn't be a scratch upon them. However…"

He levitated the two objects into the air with a flick of his wand, his eyes focused back on their forms. He created a bubble around them, one that seemed to let only some light through it. Harry had never seen anything like it, before. The whole of it had a bit of an emerald hue.

"The records I can find only indicate that three things can destroy a horcrux. The first is the venom of a basilisk, a tricky substance and dangerous to transport. The next, the death of the host - in the exceedingly rare case of living horcruxes. Lastly, _Mala Ignis._ "

Inside the bubble, a fire appeared, and it flew like a devil, like a dragon, changing shapes and burning with anger and heat - though Harry could feel none of it. It fully consumed the two objects, leaving a coating of dust upon the base of the bubble, and still the fire raged. The dust itself was consumed before the fire was done. Then, it gradually thinned, leaving only a blank space before Dumbledore released the bubble and lowered his wand.

"What was that, Albus?" Arthur asked.

"Fiendfyre," Dumbledore answered as casually as if he had been talking about the weather.

Everyone gasped.

"But, that's dark magic!" Molly cried.

"You could have killed us all!" Remus protested.

"Not to mention destroy my family home," Sirius said, and Harry was surprised how much the man appeared to care.

"I want you to all know this spell," he said, cutting them off with a gesture. "And the accompanying protection bubble spell. Should you come across a horcrux of the enemy and have no basilisk venom handy… you may need to use this. I would not use it, _ever_ , but in dire need. This war _must_ end. We must defeat him, before things grow worse.

"If you find one before things grow desperate," Dumbledore added, "and I expect it may, bring it to me. However, I may not be present and transportation could be difficult or impossible. I know I have not been a professor to many of you in years, but I would ask you to learn one … foul lesson from me today. It could be the difference between success and failure. Wands out."

Harry could not see a person present who didn't pull out their wand, his included. In silence, determined silence, they all listened to the old teacher.


	42. Chapter 42: Followed

Hermione held in her frustration, biting her lip as she listened to the bickering. A part of her wanted to spin around and tell them off, but she knew they were as tired as she was and none of them had eaten. That was sure to set some tempers flaring. Adding her own to the mix would accomplish nothing.

So, she walked, straight backed, driving forward through the dense forestland, failing utterly to ignore the others.

"We can't just Apparate back to the school," Neville was saying.

"Why not?" a seventh year Ravenclaw asked. "The Aurors will be gone by now. It was a safe place, and where else are we going to be protected?"

"How do you know they actually just left?" Neville asked. "Can you see them?"

"Gents," George said. "I have to agree with Neville on this. So, we just need to Apparate to London or somewhere. There are hiding places everywhere there."

"Using magic like that would draw their attention," Neville said.

"We've Apparated before without them finding us," George replied, terse.

"Can we take the risk?" Neville asked. "We don't know what we'd be getting into, either. What if the Ministry raided the Order at the same time? We have no information."

"Meanwhile, we crawl along like flobberworms, waiting for a manticore to squish us beneath its paws," George muttered.

Hermione heard a rustle ahead, and she shot a look at the others, putting a finger to her lips. Both Neville and George had their mouths opened, about to say something, but they cut off, abruptly. Blessed silence followed while Hermione turned back to where the sound had been. She crept forward, glancing through the brush. At a tree, she looked around the trunk only to see a doe dipping to drink from a thin stream. The doe started, noticing the motion, and leapt away, disappearing into the trees in seconds.

She breathed a sigh of relief, waving for the others to continue on. "Just a deer," she said backwards. Hermione hoped everyone else was having an easier time of it…

Ginny was seething, quietly. She sat in one of the corner chairs in the common room, ignoring the usual hubbub of evening activity. No one here knew, of course, nor would they know why they should care if they did know. An Auror raid at the school in a room none of them knew about would sound a bit silly unless you cared about the people inside.

At least the people she cared about were alright. A house elf had quietly told her to stay away and later told her that the Aurors had left empty handed. Small miracles. It didn't improve her mood much, though. How _had_ they known? A coincidental discovery was nearly impossible. Someone had given them away, someone had betrayed them.

Ginny reached up around her neck, her fingers catching only air as they searched for a chain she hadn't had to wear in ages. Looking down at her hands, she lowered them, shakily, to her lap. He was gone and would not come back. She pushed her hands firmly down, fearing they might try to rise of their own accord and search for that sense of comfort the necklace had once brought. Ginny did not need it! She didn't!

"What's got you all twisted up tonight?" asked a boy, sitting in a hard-backed chair across from her.

She looked up, seeing Lee Jordan observing her with a troubled look. He looked tired, too, but he was in the middle of prep for his N.E.W.T.s, and that without his best friends around to lighten the mood. He also wasn't blind to the world around them. Many had a bit of a haggard look when compared with the year before.

"Nothing," she responded, realising she had let the silence stretch too far for that to seem remotely truthful. "I mean, nothing out of the usual."

"And Fred and George were model students who never got in trouble," Lee said, the corner of his lip quirking up, slightly. Then, he let it sink. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"

"When isn't something happening?" she asked, trying and failing to sound flippant.

"Must have been bad to put _that_ frown on your face," Lee said. "Anything a seventh year can do?"

Ginny shook her head. "It's not a school thing," she managed, with effort.

Lee gave her a look, slightly tilting his head. "It's not a boy thing, is it? Fred and George would have my head if I was advising you on that topic."

Ginny shook her head, holding the tiniest smile for a moment when thinking of them. Then, the situation they'd had to face hit her and the smile was dust in a gale. He watched her, nodding. Then, he sat back into the chair, crossing his left leg over his right and tapping his chin.

"So, you don't want to talk about it, it's not boys, and the mention of your brothers deepens your frown two-fold," he said, talking to himself. "That tells me it _is_ serious and it involves the twins. Serious and those two do not mix well, which makes this all the worse news. It's not about school, and they're not here - in any case -, so I suspect it's about whatever they're doing in the war on You-Know-Who. Right. I don't think you'd hold back if they were hurt or worse, so I suspect one or both were captured or nearly so. I did see some Aurors around dinner time, but not George or Fred. So, I'm gonna say, they were here for some reason, the Aurors nearly nabbed them, and you're a bit shaken by the brazen attempt. Am I close?"

Ginny stared at him. How could he be so close without any involvement? She was fairly certain he had been out of touch with them since the summer. He'd been glooming his way through the halls for the most part, and even his Quidditch announcing had lacked some of its old fire. That hadn't stopped him thinking. And if he could guess at the situation, how much easier would it have been for the enemy? Ginny felt like a fool, and lowered her head in shame. How did she know it wasn't her fault that the Room had been exposed? Maybe she had been too trusting with pulling people into the DA. Maybe she had been too secure in the situation…

"I'm sure it's not your fault," Lee said, drawing her eyes back up. "The Ministry has had their crack team of Aurors hunting in addition to Death Eaters. Your brothers are tough, too. They'll take the rough times and laugh onward. It's what they do."

Ginny nodded, but she couldn't really shake the feeling. She bit her lip and forced her hands to stay they were. The temptation to go for the comfort - one she knew was gone - was strong.

"I do wish, some days," Lee said, absently, "that I had gone, too. They're off living their dream and fighting evil at the same time. I mean, how amazing is that? It's risky, sure, but all of that plays into who they are, so well."

"Fighting evil?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Hey, they're pranksters and all," Lee said, "but I never once saw them resist helping out a bullied student - often through pranking the bully, but they would check on the student first."

"I suppose," Ginny said, thinking back to her darkest days. Those two had always tried to cheer her, no matter what it took. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so."

"I know it," Lee said, rising. "So, don't let it get you down. You know they would have gone no matter what you said. They will always be there to help the little guy. Er - or girl."

"Thanks, Lee," she said.

"I'm gonna have an early one," he said. "Don't do anything your brothers wouldn't do." He flashed her a very mischievous grin at the last.

"That hardly narrows it down," she replied, chuckling.

He nodded as he left. "Good," he said. "One should always laugh when talking about those two. Merlin knows they always do."

After he left, Ginny frowned, but less deeply. What _would_ they do in her place? Not sit here moping, that was certain. Without really considering further, Ginny stood up, walked out to the entrance to the common room and stepped out into the halls of Hogwarts. It was still early enough that the Fat Lady didn't chide her on going out, though she looked on the edge of saying something. Ginny would have ignored her, in any case. That _is_ what Fred and George would have done, not that she only did what they would.

Her feet carried her off into the school, not directing herself, specifically. However, she immediately realised where she was headed, and was not surprised. The hallway to the Room of Requirement was not very far from the Gryffindor common room, in truth. No one would be in there, now, really. The Aurors had gone and the others had fled. Was there a good reason to enter? Maybe. The tree was still in there, and so was the diadem. She found it very unlikely that they had found it in the brief time she had been out. The message had reached her not half an hour after she had gone down for a quick dinner.

That visiting house elf was the only reason Ginny hadn't wandered back into the room on her own. The Aurors might have caught here. The others must have fled in the chaos of those endless stacks of rubbish. Entering in the wide open space near their makeshift dormitory was a perfect way to get caught. The Ministry might set a guard here, after today, so if she wanted to take the risk, tonight really was the safest. Fred and George would surely agree with that. She hoped they would, anyway. Besides, what was life without a little risk?

Ginny focused on the room she wanted, not the whole of it, just the section full of junk, the hiding place Neville had called it. Her pace was quick, just in case someone did wander by, or a guard did come looking. The Ministry seemed omnipresent, some days. The room opened, and she saw a shrunken version of the massive room from before. It was still quite large. Pushing the door to shut it behind her, Ginny surveyed the damage.

Some of the front stacks were shattered, and items littered the ground in all directions. Towers that had teetered in an impressive way just hours ago, had tumbled leaving heaps weighing heavily into adjacent aisles. Some routes that had been clear were certainly impassable, now. Her frown didn't move, but Ginny felt a surge of pride. The DA had put up a hell of a fight, and against Aurors, no less! That a dozen or more people could have made it out of here in one piece, though, that was flat remarkable.

"They're all gone," said a voice from behind her, and the door shut suddenly.

Ginny spun, her hand going for her wand, but froze when she found a wand at her neck. She hadn't noticed the silence after shoving the door closed. The man in front of her had caught it! She cursed herself internally for missing it. He had caught her, and by the look of him… an Auror had remained behind.

The man was tall with cold, hard eyes. His face was a bit squashed and out of proportion from the rest of his face. His fingers were thick, reflecting the slightly rotund shape of his belly. He looked confident, standing straight-backed and balanced over feet, keeping one close to her and one to the door. It was a very confronting stance.

"My my," he said. "They told me I was a fool to think anyone would try to return tonight. Still… even _I_ never expected a previous vessel would be the one to do it."

The man laughed, shaking his head. Ginny noted, though, that the wand never moved a jot. She kept her mouth shut, trying to think of a way out of this. Maybe if she could get to the door, she could direct it to put her somewhere safe and him somewhere else? That was still a few steps more than she expected she could achieve with him in the way.

"I told them," the man said, "Dumbledore must have discovered another one. Why else would you lot be digging through the refuse of school history? There's no good food in there, that's for certain. An artefact, then, it had to be. Even the council thought it was ridiculous. And here I have confirmation, and more. If you'd gotten it, you would have no reason to come back. So, we interrupted you too early for that. Perfection."

"I don't know what you mean," Ginny said, trying to keep her voice even, calm. "I just stumbled upon this room and…"

"To hide your wand?" he asked, laughing. "You've no obvious need to hide something. Coincidences are for people to lazy to analyse patterns. And we look at the long patterns. Pity. A female vessel might have passed by the mistakes of the past, but a blood traitor is hardly worthy of such an honour, even if just by family proxy."

"Why do you keep calling me a vessel?" she asked. "I'm a witch, if you missed that."

He waved her off, lowering his wand, slightly. "I know well what you are and _were_ ," he said. "We have long sought an appropriate vessel for _Him_. You might have done, but are past your usefulness after that failure ripped himself out of you. Wasteful. It is fortunate we were able to retrieve the diary. It will still serve our needs."

"You're with… the Scions?" she asked, looking him up and down again.

He chuckled. "Finally caught on?" he asked. "Did you think we all walk around in silver robes throughout the day? We all have day jobs while waiting for the grand ascension. Riddle will rise once more, in one vessel or another. The prophecy tells us so."

"I never set much stock in prophecies," Ginny said, trying to think of more to stay. The man was talking. It was best to keep him at it while she worked out an escape. "Seems like something scared people look to to feel better about themselves."

"Smirk while you can, little girl," the Scion sneered. "The great lord will rise again and no blood traitors or Mudbloods will be left as a blemish upon our land."

"Prophecies and imaginary figures," Ginny spat. "You need both to sleep better at night?"

"There's nothing imaginary about Riddle," he replied, voice low, dangerous. "He was merely tainted by outsiders before. We recognised who he was, too late. With the Scions' help, he will rise greater than before, greater than any dark lord in history. His rule will be eternal."

"You're deluded," Ginny said, her voice going flat. "Really sad, to be honest. You do all that work to be an Auror, top of the class no doubt, and waste it on a fool's dream."

"We'll see," the man said, tightening and raising his wand to her nose. "But first, you're going to tell me what you were looking for in these stacks, what brought you back."

"And if I refuse?" Ginny asked, her mind struggling for an option, a way out.

Surely the room could do something? Did she have to reach the wall? Hadn't Hermione done something while she and Harry were directly threatened? Couldn't something like that happen again? How had she done it? Why hadn't Ginny asked more about it when she had first learned about the event? It was so distant, then. Harry and Hermione had been safe. That had been the only part she cared about. Now, she just needed the same for herself.

"Then, I can make things very, very unpleasant," he said, twisting the wand. " _Crucio!"_

Ginny felt blinding pain, and - distantly - she could hear that she was screaming. Her limbs seemed to move and jerk on their own. However long it actually was, the whole of it felt like days. She suspected he released it after only a few seconds, though, to warn her of what he could still do. When it had ended, Ginny was on the ground, and panting.

"Now, shall we continue, or do you feel a change of heart?" he asked from above. There was no amusement in his voice now, just cold anger. "I must tell you, patience was never one of my best attributes."

Ginny wanted out, she begged the room in her mind for a way to get away. Her own bed felt a foregone impossibility. The Aurors - and by extension, this man, - would find her there. She would flee, find safety with the others. She just needed to get out of this room, that was all she could possibly want. Her voice muttered pleas, softly.

"What was that?" he asked, leaning down. "You'll have to speak louder if you want to avoid another dose."

"Help me," she muttered, not caring if he heard. Her voice was not for him, in any case. It was for the Room. "Protect me. S-send me…"

"No help is coming," the Auror said, clearly understanding something she had said. "And don't think being an old vessel of Riddle will save you. He is gone, and you are useless but for the information you give me, now."

He sighed, and she could feel him lifting his wand to unleash more pain upon her. Only, it never landed. She felt a buzz of heat pass over her, and she was falling, the air rippling over her as she went. Her hands and knees struck grass, hard but softer than she had expected. Ginny looked around, dazed, and found that she was in a courtyard of the castle. Above her, an eaves hung, dark and wooden. There was no sign of the man or the Room. The place had sent her away. With a gasp, she sent her thanks, a gleaming thought of happiness.

Still, there was no time to wait here. Ginny stood, shakily, and ran, flying down across the grounds as fast as her legs could carry her. Hogsmeade wasn't safe, not now. She could remember what Hermione and George had said about the Aurors there. She ran in the opposite direction, hoping no one would notice the figure darting across the dark lawn as the moon began to slowly open its light, like a giant torch above her.

She had things she needed to tell the others, and a warning to get to her family. The man had surely known who she was. If he got the Aurors to go after them because of her… She shuddered to think of what would happen with her parents in the hands of the Scions. A pang went out of her at the thought of the school undefended. The DA was done, finished. With Neville gone, and she herself fleeing into the night… Still, the Scions knew about the horcruxes, and suspected they had been hunting one in the school. That was critical news. If she could get that to someone, it would be worth it.

Her limbs sore from the torture and after running as hard as she could, Ginny struggled up the hill nearest the school. At least past that, she could hide better in the hills' shadows. She would find some way to get back when she got far enough out. There was no time to wait. What would her brothers think of her, now? Was this truly what they would have done? Not Percy, no. Nor Ron or Charlie, likely. It was too impulsive. Maybe Bill and the twins, though. Maybe.


	43. Chapter 43: Shards

Ginny emerged in a swirl of green flames, coughing as she stepped out of the fireplace. The Floo Network was never a pleasant way to travel, but it was efficient. She had wished she could Apparate, but she still had to learn that skill. The backtracking she had done to get to a house on the outskirts of Hogsmeade had taken forever. Daylight had nearly arrived when she managed it.

"Mum? Dad?!" she called out to the empty kitchen.

That was odd. They would be up by now, right? Maybe they were still out on Order business? The stove, often sizzling with one of her mum's delicious creations was dead and quiet. The whole house was still. It felt unnatural. Growing up with so many brothers, the Burrow was a place of laughter and noise.

More than odd. There wasn't a light on that Ginny could see. The bright, early moonlight filled the kitchen, sending dark shadows scattering into the corners, but she knew that wouldn't last. Darkness would consume the house in little time.

She walked through the kitchen to the door into the garden. The moonlight was sharp from this side, making her shield her eyes slightly. Stepping away from the house, she looked up. Darkness, all the way through. It was odd. From the last she had heard, Charlie and Bill had come from overseas and were staying with their parents. Surely those two would be there even if her parents weren't?

Ginny turned, sharply, looking across the empty, moon-lit garden. She could see the grounds all the way to the tree line and no one was there. Still, for a second she could swear she had felt eyes on her back. The prickling of hairs remained, despite finding no one there. For some reason, if anything, that felt worse. Was someone watching that she just could not see? If so, was she in danger?

Every rustle of the trees in the wind caught her eye, and the darkness beneath their boughs felt closer by the second. Backing slowly away, Ginny re-entered the house, never letting the yard leave her vision. When she had shut the door, she ran to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder. With her wand, she lit the wood with a swift, "Incendio!"

Tossing the powder into the flames, she saw it grow green, and didn't wait to jump into the fire. "Diagon Alley!" she called, swirling away into the Floo Network. Had she seen something in the house as she rotated away or was that just a trick of the light? Ginny tried to calm herself. Likely, she had just worked herself up. It had not been an easy night.

She landed with a flash of green in a soot-filled fireplace. It was quiet but for the general background murmur that had filled the Leaky Cauldron every time Ginny had been there. She definitely shouldn't be here now, but she didn't know where else to go. Other than the school and home… there was only one other home she knew how to find. She muttered a curse under her breath at her lack of knowledge. Good thing her mother wasn't there to hear it. Ginny would never hear the end of it.

A handful of people appeared to be in attendance, but they were deep in conversation, aside from the drunk at the bar whose head was struggling to raise off of the wood paneling. Ginny walked quickly, trying to look taller than she was and sure. People ignored you if you knew where you were going. That had helped a lot with the Guard at the school. People dawdling in the halls had been the first to be stopped and questioned.

In the alley, Ginny tapped the specific bricks, and watched the wall fold back. The dark of night transformed Diagon Alley from a light and inviting place to one that was stark, dangerous looking. That or things had deteriorated more since she had last been there. Her parents had collected her and Ron's supplies without them this summer. Mum, in particular, had insisted they stay behind. And she had really wanted to go, this year.

Shaking her head at the thought of her protective and loving parents, Ginny put one foot through the gap in the wall.

"Where are you going?" asked a voice from behind.

Ginny started, turning sharply with wand drawn. She faced a wary and watchful Tom, the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron. She hesitated. He had always been kind to them, or at least hospitable. But was he still the same Tom? Would he send for the Ministry? Would she find a dozen Aurors chasing her down the street in moments. Best to play it carefully, she decided, lowering her wand, but not putting it away.

"Oh, Tom," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm… er… visiting my brothers."

"On your own? At night?" the man asked, looking concerned.

"Er-yes," she said. "It's a short way, when you go by Floo, and I don't know if they have one set up, yet."

"Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, suspicion clear on his old face. "I remember your mum specifically coming here for your books."

"Oh, yeah," she said. "The Headmaster asked me to … deliver a letter for him. I- I asked permission to visit my brothers, and he said I could assist while I was at it. I just got here a little late. Missed my floo stop once and… please don't tell my mum! She'd be furious if she heard I took so long to get there. Please?"

Ginny did not have to try hard to look scared. If she was lucky, her mother would kill her, learn dark magic to raise her back to life some how, and then kill her again if she found out where Ginny went at night. Fred and George would help. They were always ones to help keep a sibling out of trouble.

"Alright, but only because I saw Fred pass this way a few minutes ago," Tom said. "Ah, yes, there's a light on up there. I'll walk you over there, just in case, little lady."

"Er- thank you," she said, pocketing her wand and walking beside the silent, old man.

She could feel his eyes on her at times, but it was less threatening than the sensation she had had earlier. This, at least, was just a concerned man making sure she didn't get into trouble. In times like this, well, that was nothing to sniff at, regardless. Maybe he believed her, maybe he didn't. All she needed was to reach Fred and George. They would know what to do. With her parents missing and no school to go back to…

Ginny could see a light on in the upper floor window. Tom walked her around to the back stair. It was much darker here than in the front, and Ginny found a sense of relief, indeed, that she didn't have to wander here alone. Tom said nothing, though his expression showed a man deep in thought. He waved her to the stairs, and she turned.

"Thank you, Tom," she said. "I appreciate this."

"Just go on up, lass," the man said, scoffing her thanks. "You get in there safe and make sure those two look after you. I'm going to have a word with your Headmaster one of these days about what is and isn't a safe thing to send a student to do for him. He may be new at this, but…"

With a wave of his hand, Tom strolled back down the side alley towards the front of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes shop. He turned, looking back at her, and she started. With a quick step, Ginny moved up the stairs to the door, and soon lost sight of Tom. Light came from under the door, a warm inviting light after the darkness, pale moonlight and terror of the night. She would be safe here.

Ginny's hand froze as she reached for the doorknob as a cackling laugh came through the wood. She stopped moving, keeping her feet dead still. Pulling out her wand, Ginny leaned closer to the door to hear what was going on. It could be one of their clever inventions. Sound like a horrible hag sweets were certainly something the twins would like to make.

"I love a challenge, stubborn fool," Bellatrix said, her voice clear and cold.

Ginny had met her, once, on a fateful night that she didn't remember much of. She had lost herself and awoken to have Riddle gone. Much had been terrible that night, but seeing Bellatrix menace her family, laughing at their fear and discomfort had been chief among them, for her. She had nearly ripped them apart, and now…

"I don't know… what you're talking about," Fred said, sounding irritated. Perhaps he was bound and struggling?

"You'll remember before long," Bellatrix said. "I have a way with getting people to loosen their tongues. I am feeling sporting, however. If you tell me what I want to know, now, I will only torture you a little bit. Ideally, I'd have your twin here. Tormenting one twin to get the other to talk is several times more fun. Let's look forward to that day, together, eh?"

"You're insane," Fred spat.

"Debatable," she replied, cackling. "I'm more in control of my emotions than you are. A little tied up and knocked to the ground and already grumbly. Maybe you are the one who is mad."

Ginny felt anger growing. A part of her was relieved, though. She hadn't hurt him, yet. There was time. Time to stop it. She reached for the knob, her wand rising to shoulder height.

"Where is the Potter brat?" she asked. "I won't ask again. Remember, I could snap my fingers and have your family hauled in here, one at a time. Perhaps we should start with your little sister? Little sisters are always a nice weak spot. I mean… really! Defenceless little…"

Ginny threw the door open, a spell already leaving her lips as she did. "Expelliarmus!" she cried, sending the spell into the woman.

The wand flew from Bellatrix's hand, bouncing off the ceiling above her and striking the ground a step away. Ginny took in the scene while the woman scrambled. Fred was behind the woman, tied up on the floor. His wand was beside him. There was a chance.

"Relashio!" she cried, sending a spell cutting through the ropes around him.

He began moving as Bellatrix sent a spell out at her. She barely moved out of the way behind the door, staggering as the door struck her in the shoulder. With a jolt of horror, Ginny felt her back hit the railing of the stair. She caught it with her free hand, preventing a tumble from an uncomfortable height. As she steadied herself, the door shattered like a plate dropped from a second floor window, the blast illuminated in red from the blasting spell that had struck it.

With a yell, Fred leapt on Bellatrix, struggling over the wands. Ginny heard the pair struggling over her wand. His own was nowhere to be seen. Ginny raised her wand, trying to focus on the woman. Then, the wand pointed directly at her and a spell flew at her. With no time to react, Ginny flinched, shielding her face with her free hand. The spell never landed.

Looking up, Ginny saw Tom, standing defensively in front of her with his wand out. He glanced over his shoulder at her with a smile, and then held a hand up.

"Stay back, lass," Tom said. "I'll keep you safe."

"But, Fred!" she said, trying to reach her wand around him.

Meanwhile, she could see the fight had continued between the pair. Bellatrix was pulling the wand free of Fred's hand, a cruel look in her eyes. She spared no looks for the pair at the door. Did she consider them no threat? Ginny could see the panic appearing in her brother's eyes. He could see she was getting the better of him.

Ginny couldn't get a good view of her with Tom in the way. However, she saw an opening. "Magna Pedium!" she cried, sending a spell at Bellatrix's feet.

The woman stumbled, tripping from the spell, and Fred pulled free the wand. He pointed it at her, and incanted, "Incarcerous!"

Then, stillness filled the room and the night outside. After a moment, Ginny sagged against the railing, feeling a renewed exhaustion. Fred sighed, and sat down in a chair. Only Tom remained standing where he was, watching everything as though expecting another attack.

"I knew something was wrong," Tom said. "You didn't tell me your brother was in trouble." He looked at her, voice accusing.

"I didn't know," she managed. "I'd have come with everyone I could gather if I thought she would be here."

"Release me," Bellatrix growled, glaring at all of them in turn. Her neck turned swiftly from left to right. "Release me and your deaths will be far less painful than when I escape. That is a promise."

"Oh, shut up," Fred said, waving his wand at her.

The woman's mouth still moved, but only silence came out of it. Her eyes bulged, and her lips moved faster, the skin around her eyes stretching with rage. Ginny tried not to look at her.

"What happened, Fred?" Ginny asked, pushing herself up and running over to hug her brother.

"I came back to grab a few things, and this one," Fred said, nudging the Death Eater with his foot, "nearly blew the door off its hinges."

"Not just nearly, I'd say," Tom said, observing the splintered door shards that littered the door step. "You in some kind of trouble with that lot?"

"Long story," Fred said. "I was hiding at the Burrow, but there were things I needed to collect. I'm guessing she was watching our place."

"Why did you come back?" Ginny asked, looking across at Tom.

"Like I said," Tom replied, calmly - as though a woman wasn't tied up on the ground, "I thought something was wrong, so I watched from below. You didn't go in, so I made my way back around to the stair to check on you. When the fighting started, well… who would leave a child to that?"

"Won't you get in trouble?" she asked. "They're kinda.."

"Running the Ministry?" Tom finished. "Yeah, more or less. But old Tom can handle himself. You don't worry about that."

"I think we're forgetting the important Acromantula in the room," Fred said, looking down at the bound Death Eater. "I suppose we could bundle her up for the Aurors or something."

"The Ministry would just let her go," Ginny said. "Maybe the Order?"

"I don't know if they have somewhere to hide prisoners," Fred said.

"You children don't sweat that stuff," Tom said, shaking his head. "You just get off to where you need to be. I'll send her on her way when you're far away."

"What?" Fred asked. "She'll kill you."

From the daggers Bellatrix glared at Tom, Ginny had to agree. She nodded.

"Nah," Tom said. "I doubt she'll remember enough after tonight to think more than that she had a spot of bad firewhiskey."

Bellatrix's eyes grew confused, then sharpened with intensity.

"You … know memory charms?" Ginny asked.

"Pretty solid at them, as far as charms go," Tom said. "Always easier to defuse a fight with a minor memory adjustment than letting it play out, my dad always said. Far less collateral damage, you know?"

The pair of them stared at Tom. He laughed.

"I'm joking," he said. "Kids have no sense of humour. I swear…"

"Remind me never to get belligerent at the Leaky," Fred whispered to her out of the side of his mouth, sounding a bit unnerved.

"Never get belligerent at the Leaky," she said, her voice suppressing the urge to laugh.

Fred nodded, a smile blooming on his face with that patented Weasley twin amusement.

"Get goin', alright?" Tom asked, waving at them. "I need to get back to the bar. Still a few stragglers there. Apparate somewhere."

"Alright," Fred said. "I already got what I needed."

His hand patted a pocket before he took Ginny's hand. "Hang on, Gin. And, Tom?"

"Yeah?" the old man asked, stepping forward towards Bellatrix.

"Thanks," Fred said.

"Thanks, Tom," Ginny added. "Twice."

"Ah, get off it, and don't mention it," he said. Then, frowning, he added, "Seriously, don't."

Ginny smiled, nodding with her brother as he tightened his grip. Then, he twisted and Ginny felt that pull of compression. It was short, less than a second, she thought. Vaguely, she could feel that tug as if she were falling away from Fred, but his grip held her with him. Then, they landed, and Ginny staggered. She could never get used to Side-Along Apparition.

"Alright," he said. "We're here. They said they were meeting here, so I thought we should just…"

"Where are we?" Ginny asked, looking around the street they had landed in.

"Let's get inside," Fred said. "Everyone will want to see you. You'd better have a good story, though. Mum's going to be furious you're not in school."

He led her up the steps. Ginny felt her head growing heavy as they walked. She had been up entirely too long, already. What time was it? Was it nearly morning? Was that just the city lights or was dawn coming?

"I had to go," she said. "The Aurors…"

"Wait," he said, looking up and down the street. "Let's get inside first."

Ginny could see he still had his wand out. Did he expect an attack here? She felt a spike in fear and looked around. That feeling from the Burrow came back to her. Maybe someone was following…

"Okay," she said, speeding up her steps. "There's a lot to say."

He waved his wand to open the door to an unassuming house on the street, and closed the door behind them with a heavy finality. Fred sighed, lighting his wand. The house was utterly dark.

"Are you sure someone is here?" she asked.

A blaze of light blinded her. Ginny held up a hand to her face, getting the vague impression of people. Fred cried out, and she didn't have time to find out why before she felt herself pulled into a startlingly firm hug. The silence had exploded into talking, and it was a while before she could get a word in. It seemed half of the Order had shown up, appearing as out of nowhere. She would tell them what had happened, though. They needed to know all of it. Before exhaustion took her, Ginny would fill them in.


	44. Chapter 44: The Truth

Hermione was exhausted. Five days. Five ruddy days of begging rides, trying to keep the group moving, anything to get down to London. The others were beat, and Neville and George looked seconds from coming to blows. It had taken everything she had in her to keep them from it. Now, they just had the most difficult part of all.

"We're here," she said, looking up at the looming London skyline. "Or, near enough."

"About time," a seventh year boy, Roger Davies from Harry's house, Ravenclaw. "If this were my Quidditch team…"

Hermione gritted her teeth. If she had a Knut for every time he mentioned that he was a Quidditch captain… It just went to show, not everyone in the same house was remotely similar. Harry wasn't one for complaining.

"It's not," George grumbled. "We'll get you off to your aunt's place as soon as we can contact the Order. Alright?"

"Let's just get going," Hermione said, wearily. "The sooner we get there, the sooner everyone can rest."

They set off, weaving through the long roads. The buildings in the distance hardly seemed to move at all, but Hermione knew each block was that much closer to the goal. Their destination wasn't in the centre of London, in any case, just this side of the centre. The others - blessedly - followed her quietly. None of them knew where to go, by foot, like she did. George had been there, but he had travelled closer via Apparition before.

She was just glad they hadn't been found, so far. A vivid memory of being chased down the London streets by Pettigrew and others flashed in her mind. Hermione shook her head. Enough of that. They had all held their own amidst collapsing stacks of rubbish while being attacked by Aurors. If they could get through that, a trip through the streets of London would be easy.

Anonymity was key. In the crowds of everyday Londoners, they might stand out a little. Some of them still wore school robes or other Wizarding robes, though a few had been in the Room full time for a while and had changed into casual Muggle attire for searching. Black school robes, too, blended pretty well in the dark suits and skirts that predominated the traffic around them. So long as they didn't do anything too strange.

"Mummy!" a Muggle girl cried, tugging at her mother's arm. "Why are those boys wearing dresses?"

The girl pointed at a few of the group, mistaking robes for dresses. The girl's mother was looking at a map, and didn't look around.

"It's impolite to stare, dear," she said, flipping the map over and shaking her head.

They kept walking. Only the girl looked at them. Hermione wondered if little children had an easier time noticing things out of the ordinary than adults. Or maybe they just took the time to look? In any case, the moving flow of traffic swept them away, and the girl and her mother were soon far, far behind.

Hermione took a breath, realising she had been holding it. There was a lot that could go wrong, but even if the woman had made a deal of it… there was little chance a wizard or witch would have been around to notice. Even an incident could take minutes for Muggle policemen to arrive, much less the far smaller Magical Law Enforcement. Minutes meant plenty of time for them to walk away. At absolute worst, they could Apparate. She just wanted to avoid it. They had done so during the long journey south, and Hermione was proud of that result. It was safer. They could take risks on their own, but this lot had not signed up to be soldiers against Voldemort.

A man bumped into her side, the diadem pressing into her leg through the robes. She brushed off the motion, and continued moving. It was a good reminder of another reason they needed to stay clouded in secrecy. If the Ministry found that headpiece, Voldemort would have it back within the hour - if not sooner. Then, he would know they were after his horcruxes. How long would it take before he ditched all of them in some impossible to find place or scattered around the globe and not just around England and Scotland?

Hermione realised she had sped up, her steps coming more quickly. The others lagged a little, and she slowed. They were tired. So was she, but she had to lead them to the hideaway. None of them would find it without her. Well, possibly George, but that might well take forever. His sense of directions had never been as good as Fred's.

"This way," she said, noticing a cut through alley that would save them minutes of scrutiny by the crowds.

They slipped through, and Hermione focused on the path ahead. She could worry about Fred and Harry later. She would have to. The past few days had given her ample time for that, in any case. Not knowing was painful. She knew George's hair trigger mood had its roots in the same feeling. He worried about his brother, of course. Hermione steeled herself to that. Harry and Fred would be concerned, too. They were no doubt safe, by now. Maybe they were at the hideaway now, in fact. She could picture Harry pacing back and forth in the living area, his forehead etched with worry lines.

Then, before she knew it, Hermione found herself at that warehouse, leading them into the tunnels. Stunned, she lit her wand and hurried along, reaching the door in moments. Wand ready, she opened the door. Darkness. Silence.

She led the way in, lighting the place and went to inspect each of the rooms. It looked much as it had when they last left. In fact, Harry's tea cup was still on the counter. They had expected to come back, but neither had. Hermione found her heart falling at what that could mean.

"A-all clear," she said out, making sure the others could hear it from the entry.

George, Neville and the others entered, and took seats around the table in the kitchen. Hermione made tea, looking for something to say. A few of the younger children curled up on their chairs, looking as exhausted as Hermione felt. When she had served up tea, they all sat, silently, just staring at the tabletop and thinking.

"I'm going to find Fred," George announced, standing.

"Be careful, George," Hermione said, and he grunted, leaving the rest of them seated.

After a few minutes, Neville sat back, frowning. "We lost a lot in that room," he said. "We had food, shelter and information. Here we may be sheltered, but we're far from the school. And students in trouble have no way to get out. I suppose Ginny might be able to help them, but the risk is greater."

"I hope they haven't been able to connect her to it," a younger boy named Philip added, sniffling.

"I'm sure she's fine," Hermione said, forcing herself to sound positive. She was sure Ginny could take care of herself. The DA had trained well, and Ginny had been through more than most. The girl was tough.

"And, we have food," Hermione said, nodding to herself. "Vinken?"

The house elf appeared with a crack causing a few of the students to jump. Hermione beamed at him.

"Miss Granger, Mister Longbottom," he said bowing. "Vinken is most happy to see you have all arrived safely. Wh- Is Mister Weasley safe?"

"He has just gone to look for his brother," Hermione said.

Vinken nodded. "The Weasleys stay close," he said. "How may Vinken and the house elves be of assistance?"

"Is it still safe to bring us food?" she asked. "We may be here for some time."

"Of course," Vinken said. "Vinken is thankful for your concern. We house elves can look after ourselves, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled.

"Thanks, Vinken," Neville said, his voice dripping with tiredness. "I think we could all use a good meal and rest."

"Vinken will arrange the food," he said. "And, might Vinken suggest a few blankets and pillows from the storerooms?"

"That would be lovely, Vinken," Hermione said. "I expect we won't have a chance to move anyone today."

"It would be our pleasure," Vinken said, bowing and Disapparating.

The mood lightened then. Some of them began speculating on what kind of food they would get, and how much. The seventh year, Roger, stood, declaring he would work out where everyone would sleep.

"No one is pushing Hermione out of her room," he said, sounding self-important. "She designed this place, and invited all of us to stay."

He glared around at the others as though daring them to go against his declaration. Hermione did not have the energy to argue. A part of her would be happy to regain her bed, but mostly she just wanted them all to calm down and relax. If that took the form of an early dinner and sleep in some level of comfort, so be it.

"Hermione!" Roger called, rushing back in.

"Yes?" she asked, rising. Her wand was half-way out of its pocket when she saw he was carrying a pair of notes. Her alarm calmed to curiosity.

"There are two of them, one for you and one for Harry," he said, handing them across to her.

Hermione observed the letters. The spindly writing on the front, simply addressing it to Hermione Granger on one and Harry Potter on the other could only have been written by Albus. That was his handwriting. She had seen it a number of times. Why write when he could have them come meet him? That was an awfully slow way of communicating. Did he think they wouldn't see it for days? Did he want them only to see it days later? The most important question, though, was how long had the letters been sitting there?

Setting down Harry's on the table, she opened the letter addressed to her. A flash of light lit the room, and it took a moment for her eyes to settle and read the contents. Hermione read it, quickly, then read it again to be sure she had read it correctly.

Hermione,

Apologies for the prying eyes spell. If anyone but you opens the letter, that person would be unable to read the text. Harry's is the same, should you receive the pair of letters before Harry.

Much has changed, I'm afraid. And, I anticipate a time soon when things will need to be told to the both of you that are of utmost importance. I cannot rely upon myself or any other to be there at the right time, so I left these missives in the hopes that it will reach your eyes when they are needed.

First off, I apologise. The pair of you have been through more than your share of strife in this war, too much of it attributable to my actions and decisions. All of my acts of brilliance have a counter of a dozen or more in abject failure. I do not ask your understanding or forgiveness in this. My regret is yours to have. With it, do what you will. I regret some of what I tell you below and the delay in telling you some other things. I persevere. The truth must come out.

I have put measures in place to enable your parents to return, Hermione, the moment our enemy is defeated. They are safe and well. They are performing dental work in another country, for the time being. No matter what happens, they will be safe. I give you my word upon it.

Harry has some surviving relatives. His aunt on his mother's side, Mrs. Petunia Dursley, lives with her family (Mr. Vernon Dursley and their son Dudley Dursley) at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. They are Muggles, but his aunt - at least - is aware of his birth and parents' deaths. The day after they died, I faced the most difficult decision of my life. My original plan, you see, was to entrust Harry to the care of his relatives. The blood protection his mother created in her death, the very thing that kept Harry from dying with them, could have been extended until he came of age.

I was hell bent - perhaps more true than I thought then - upon this plan. The professors interceded on Harry's behalf. Professor McGonagall had observed them, and brought in other professors to speak to me as I delivered Harry to the doorstep. Our discussion was long and heated. You must understand, it was heated in our concern and care for Harry. I fault the professors not a twig in their passion, and I felt my arguments dissolve before them. So, we took him in.

I do not tell you this to prejudice you nor Harry against them. I tell you this so that, if Harry wishes, he can meet his family. As I have a feeling you may be at his side that day, Hermione, I entrust him to your more capable hands in that moment. Mine, I fear, are not up to the task. Of all the hardship of this war, their obscurity has protected them better than ever I could have arranged.

My quill hesitates upon this next point. It must be written upon the page, and I will see it through, though my heart cannot see the way forward. It concerns the night Harry's parents died. As I have said, his mother's love and sacrifice protected Harry from death. It did not protect him from everything. The scar on his head, notwithstanding, you - of all people - will remark upon the connection he has had to fight with Voldemort.

It is no trick. It is no weapon or attack by our enemy. It also was not a conscious decision on Voldemort's part. In fact, I expect he has found it a source of irritation as much as Harry has. His very plans revealed just before coming to fruition? A boy seeing key moments he wanted private? The man would loathe such a thing, and seek any manner of ending it, including seeking Harry's death.

This is not, however, a warning of the danger Harry faces. You are daily aware of that fear and uncertainty. No. I must illuminate truth. That scar was not an effect solely of a failed killing curse. At that time, you will remember, Voldemort had split his soul several times to create the horcruxes we know about. It is my supposition that as he split his soul in killing his hated enemy, the part of him that he loosed latched onto the only living being in the room after his spell rebounded. Thus, a part of Voldemort's soul has bonded with Harry. Whether accidental horcrux or just something much like it, I am not sure, but it lives in Harry.

You may wish to dismiss this. I did say it was a supposition above. I should clarify. It was conjecture, but I have studied the effects, watched Harry grow and the connection strengthen. I am sure, now. Harry is as much a part of Voldemort as the locket, the diary or the others. I know how clever you are, Hermione. I know you will understand the meaning. In order to defeat Voldemort once and for all, his horcruxes must be destroyed. Otherwise, he will return. It might be a year, ten. But the evil of Voldemort will return, and countless could die. In order to end this, Harry must die. And Voldemort must do it.

Why tell you this now? Harry needs to know it, and you two will see it done. Voldemort must be defeated. This world must be free of his terror, his pain. I trust no one with this more than the two of you. Even if I am not there, I know you will see his end and the world saved.

But. I have told you about his family, too. I do not expect you all to have a chance to see them before the confrontation. That is coming. I can feel the closeness. I told you about his family because, I choose to have hope. It may be illogical to believe he can die and live. I have seen the impossible happen too often in my years to dismiss anything. I choose to believe in Harry.

I apologised at the start, and I would do so again, but it will do no good. I have left too heavy a weight upon your hearts. I would that I might have borne it my whole life without needing to pass it to you. I live in hope, however. However long I might be able to protect you two, my wand is ready.

When next we speak, we might have no time to speak of this. I left too much for too late, but my heart aches at even this early a telling. If you get your letter before Harry finds his, present it to him when you think it best. I leave that in your hands.

Yours truthfully,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Hermione blinked, struggling to see through the stream of tears that had burst as she reached that name a second time. It wasn't her imagination. Dumbledore wouldn't lie about this. He wouldn't fabricate a story. What would it benefit him? Anyone? He wrote truth. Hermione wiped her eyes, ignoring the concerned voices around her, for the moment. What would or could she say to it? What could she do?

A flash of anger flared within her. Anger and Dumbledore. No Voldemort. No… everything. Why? Harry had given everything for the Wizarding world, so many times? He had dedicated his youth to it. No doubt he would have loved to have spent today flying over the Quidditch pitch back at Hogwarts, safe but for poor bludger hits. That such a thing had ever seemed dangerous to her was laughable. He had to walk to his own death, knowing he was doing it. This wasn't fair. It was monstrous! It was absurd! She refused to accept it.

She clenched her fist, rising.

"Hermione?" George asked, concern lining his face. "Where are you going?"

"Come on, George," she said, pocketing the two letters. "We need to break back into Hogwarts."

"What? Why?" he asked.

Hermione looked back from the kitchen door at him and the rest of the shocked students. A hint of amusement struck her as she thought about it. They had just escaped there, barely. Still, it was necessary.

"Because," she replied, focusing back on him, "I need to find something in the library."


	45. Chapter 45: Risky Gambit

Albus walked calmly through the opening, finding a wide open space bereft of life. His shoes clicked lightly on the glossy, black tiles. Regardless, an echo returned to him, clearly forecasting his arrival. Still, he had not come here with the thought of stealth. He was far past that, at this point.

His eyes roamed as he walked across the space, but he did not expect an ambush. The whole thing was a trap, but one he walked into with eyes wide open. They knew it and he knew it. All they had to do was show up. He wouldn't change a decision he had made in this regard, at least. There were always past regrets. Regrets measured time as perfectly as any watch he had seen. Better in terms of experience and wisdom instead of physical age.

Albus stopped on the four pointed star in the centre of the hall, waiting and listening. After his echoes had faded, the room took on the silence of a tomb. The air here was stale and dusty. It was, however, well lit. Across the floor, he could see the intricate patterns of tiny tiles that formed a very great mosaic along the north wall. The star he stood upon was the southern most part of that image and one that contrasted with its deep purple hue against the full black of the other tiles.

He tried not to focus on the upside down image. He had seen the like many times, and he was not phased by the clear images of violence against Muggles it represented. That was not what he was here about. He wish it was, but differences of that kind would not be sorted in a day. If anything positive came of this, he would find relief. If even the tiniest scrap of something positive…

A door opened, ringing the space with the sound of a creaking hinge. Whoever it was behind this appeared to take as much care with stealth as Albus had done. Good. He preferred if all parties attended on the same grounds. Whether it remained like this would be seen. For now, however, he waited, watching the darkest recesses for a sign of the approaching person.

A figure emerged from the shadows behind the deepest section of the tiles. Unexpectedly, the robes bore the silver trimming of the Scions. The overhanging hood shaded the face completely. Albus could see only the vaguest of silhouettes that hovered just out of reach. The figure's hands, too, were hidden, contained within the robes and clasped to each other across the chest. Albus waited.

"Albus Dumbledore," said the figure, a man's voice.

Albus nodded, his hunch confirmed. The man took this as an ascent to his own name. Without hesitation, he came to a halt and opened his arms wide, pale hands spreading and facing the elaborate ceiling.

"Welcome to our domain," he said, and Albus could hear the smile on that face. "What brings you so foolishly alone?"

"I fear we may have much to discuss," Albus responded, purposefully obtuse. He maintained a soft, knowing smile.

"I do applaud you on finding us," the figure said. "Well, this place, I should say. One wonders how you managed it."

Dumbledore smiled. "You stall for time to ensure I do not have any one following," he said. "I assure you, on my word, I have come alone, and I intend to walk out the same way."

"You presume much that is not in your control, Albus," the man said. "Surely, even you do not think you have enough wizarding prowess to combat the Scions on your own? You have your quibbles about magic, light and dark. We have no such impediments, and you will find dark quite the surprising viper. Or have you forgotten your old … shall we say, unreturned interest?"

"I did not come here to reminisce on times good or _ill_ ," Dumbledore responded, struggling to keep his demeanour calm, assured.

"Then, why have you come to us?" the man asked. "It is not so safe for your ilk, and you would be well aware of that. We do not make deals, we do not assist in the apprehension of dark lords, despite your thinking. That man has his own war to run, as we do ours. We gifted him a chance, but he misused our gift, abused the followers we urged to his _cause,_ if you can call that re-rolled drivel a cause. What he does now is of no consequence to us, Dumbledore."

"And what of this blood feud between the groups?" Dumbledore asked, somewhat curious. It had seemed positively sure that the Scions wanted to bring about the downfall of the Death Eaters.

"Eager new followers need to be allowed their chance," the man said, gesturing vaguely. "Some pass our initiation, some do not. It is common, is it not, for the newest members to decide they know best? I can see that you know I am right. But, if you wish to be brief, then be brief. The sooner you are about your business here, the sooner I can decide how we will kill you."

The man folded his arms, and looked at Dumbledore, expectantly. He had said much more than Albus had expected, far too much for someone facing a hated enemy. The man was gloating! He wanted Albus to feel the full worth and power of the Scions, maybe even imagine misdeeds they had never had a part in. It was a clever thing, expanding and pushing against truths to make the impossible just seem unlikely.

"I come to you simply for advice," Albus said, nodding to himself in amusement at the thought.

The man laughed. It wasn't a chuckle but a belting gut-wrenching laugh. His arms fell to his sides and he shook in amusement. Albus waited, patiently. What he had to say, the man would hear. If he had a fair hearing, that was a victory in itself. When the man had reduced to chuckles, he shook his hooded head.

"I have heard and seen many things about you, Albus Dumbledore," he said. "I have never known you to be a comedian."

"I come," Albus said, ignoring the joke, "because, as you say, you are not so… impeded as I. And in your time, there may be some areas of magic you have explored that few would otherwise dare."

"You flatter me," the man replied, chuckling again. His posture changed again, growing stiff and aggressive as his voice grew harsh. "Yet, I do not believe for a second you are interested in switching to the better side. What are you about, Dumbledore?"

"I have but one concern in this," Albus said, holding up one finger. "Hogwarts. The school is dying."

"Hogwarts?" the man asked, sounding disbelieving. "In the midst of a new war with that fool, you're worried about the school you were evicted from?"

"Hogwarts is important to us all," Albus said, putting his hands together. "I daresay you and most of your followers attended it, at some point or other. So will many future generations, if we prevent this tragedy."

"If you are trying to play for time, it won't work," the man said. Albus could almost see the smirk that was surely on the man's face. "Hogwarts, though a remarkable work of magic, is not, in fact, alive."

"That is what many of us thought," Albus said. "A magnificent place, the school. We would stare at its wondrous ceiling, marvel at the moving staircases, torches and fireplaces. Indeed, it is a master work of the four Founders. Yet, I have long suspected that there is more to it than spells. The spells never require recasting. They never require upkeep or repairs. Broken parts of the school have been known to aid in their repair, automatically."

"The Founders were clever, we know," the figure said, shaking his hood. "No time for a lecture, Dumbledore."

"Ah, but we are never too old to learn a thing or two," he replied, tapping his old nose in a knowing way. "Speculation aside, I have recently come into some evidence of how the great Founders managed this miraculous eternal maintenance. There is a place I fear you know well, now. It houses many hidden mysteries, but has revealed to some a great and powerful quartet of magical objects. I have had the rare privilege of observing one of these, and I know this much… it encapsulates the essence of one of the Founders."

"A horcrux?" asked the man, stepping back in surprise.

Dumbledore smiled. "It has some similarities," he said, "though from the life in it, much less dark. I rather think the Founders put a bit more than a piece of their souls into it. It felt whole, complete. They wanted Hogwarts to be a place for all students to come, and I expect they have done so personally for a thousand years."

"That's impossible…" the figure said, still and trying to regain his composure.

"Much that was done in that era might seem impossible," Albus answered. "Yet, I could sense the magical binding and observed the one object myself."

"This artefact," the man mused. "You speak of the tree of light held, until recently, by the Ministry?"

Albus nodded, sombrely.

"I suppose that confirms the reports you had it taken," the man said. "It was an artefact of some interest, for the Ministry."

The man paused, considering. Albus let him think, watching the cogs turn in the mind ahead, despite the levels of effort to conceal his identity.

"And this… doom you mentioned?" the man asked, sounding interested.

"The one I had found was … contaminated," Dumbledore said, frowning. "I expect it came just as Riddle attempted to kill young Harry Potter in the school at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. From my understanding of the man, he has a penchant for murders when almost anything else might suffice. The splintering again of his well broken soul seems to have left an accidental horcrux within the artefact.

"That would hardly be an issue for an ordinary artefact, however, this is one of the pillars holding up the school. Without it, the others will struggle to maintain their life. Eventually, I fear, all four will fail and the school will crumble. We know little of how it is upheld, but the ancient spells will have been bound to these pillars. In a short time, I fear, the very walls may cave and collapse, leaving the school a pile of rubble."

The figure paused, and Albus wished he had done away with that foolish hood. It was hardly necessary, not for this. Still, he had come to ask a favour. Patience.

"Were I to believe this," the man said, "as ridiculous it sounds, why? Why are you coming to m- us?"

"I have a question for you," Albus said. "Can the accidental horcrux be expunged from the artefact without destroying the original soul within it? Every text I have found on horcruxes requires the complete destruction of the vessel to remove them from that vessel. My efforts have been thorough, but you may have learned more from different practitioners of the magical arts."

"You risked much to learn that answer," the figure said.

"The reward for all far outweighs any risk to my person," Albus said. "I consider it an honour to assist the school in anyway. And I did not see as much danger if my purpose was heard. Riddle himself would not ask for Hogwarts' destruction, though through his actions he may have set it down that course."

"The Ministry found the tree in the middle of a courtyard in Hogwarts," the figure said. "No one knew what it was, what it did and where it came from. Tapping into that magic would be a boon for any dark wizard… and you came to tell us about it."

"I thought the Grand Silver," Albus said, "might appreciate the danger in meddling with such forces, and would be intelligent enough to know what secrets must be kept, for Hogwarts, for your own members, their children and grandchildren."

"How do you know that name?" the figure asked, voice furious.

"Answer my question and I will answer yours," Albus replied, calm.

"What good it might do you," the man snarled. "There is no way to do what you seek. If you are correct, the school will crumble. If you are not, I will see what a doddering old fool you have become. Perhaps it is even worth letting you go to see your abject failure… perhaps. Now, my question?"

"It is as I feared," Albus said, lowering his eyes slightly. He breathed deep. Difficult decisions awaited.

"Dumbledore, you try my patience," the Grand Silver growled.

"I once knew a foreign boy of a most curious nature," Albus said. "When he heard about people looking for glory and power, he would find out everything about them. Everything. No barrier or magical hindrance could get in his way. I can remember still his insistence that someday he would be a Grand Silver, amongst a number of titles he fancied."

"A name, Dumbledore… on your word," the figure replied.

"Oh, he is easy enough to find, if you have a mind," Albus said. "I expect he might even enjoy a visit with one such as yourself. Though, the guards on Grindelwald's prison may not make it easy."

"That man knew?" The Grand Silver asked, sounding startled. "And yet he spurned every effort to meet with us."

"He was a self-made wizard, despite his many, many faults," Albus said. "I expect he would have hated the idea of being beholden to anyone."

"That may well be," the Grand Silver said, musing.

"My thanks for the information," Albus said, "and, as payment, I will assist you in a matter of utmost importance."

"And what is that?" The Grand Silver asked.

"The manner of my exit, of course," Albus replied. "You are clearly new at this, Minister, so you should know it will not be looked on kindly if I just come for a chat and walk out safely. No, no, that will sit poorly with your council."

"If you insist," The Grand Silver said, flicking his wrist to summon a number of wizards to capture Albus.

"That is much more acceptable," Albus said, smiling. "You might want to draw your wand, however. My gift for your knowledge. A fine trade."

Bowing his head, Albus, flicked his wand faster than a viper, and he saw Wincress, the Grand Silver had nearly drawn his own wand before the tile beneath Albus' feet shot upward at a blurring speed. His hastily cast bubble shattered the glass of the high ceiling neatly around him. In the cool autumn air, Albus reached out a hand catching the Firebolt broom he had summoned.

With as much dextrousness he could command, Albus pulled himself atop the broom and flew off into the deepening evening, leaving the building and the Scions far behind. His one regret in it was to miss the surprise in the Minister's eyes.

As the euphoria of the escape faded, Albus' thoughts darkened. It was as he had feared. The accidental horcrux was as deadly to souls of the dead as to the object it was in. He knew not which of the four this tree belonged to, but that soul would die and the others would likely follow.

Their release might be a blessing, of sorts, if not for the fall of the school they had given everything for. He had choices to make, decisions and plans to craft. No option was good. No plan was without fault. Time was, no doubt, running out. Albus flew into the purples of twilight, soul and mind determined to find the best solution, as his flawed once friend might have put it, for the greater good.


	46. Chapter 46: An Ending

Agatha waved her wand, heating up the dozen or so teapots on the counter. With another pair of flicks, she lifted them as a group onto her tray, and levitated the tray beside her. Walking at a brisk pace, the young woman thought about her choices. It happened often, of late. Was this advancing her career? Really? Would any of the men and women here ever see her as a peer if they remembered her serving tea several times a day and running errands at their beck and call?

She shook away these thoughts and the accompanying frown, and smiled. That had been a very clear instruction on day one. Smiles kept her in the upper managements' good spellbooks, and kept her employed, at that. Not that anyone other than serving administration would notice. The first three offices she visited had their occupants busily writing away on large scrolls covered in complex jargon. One held out a hand for the prepared tea cup as Agatha lowered the teapot to a well-stained, open spot on the desk. That was the most notice she often received.

In the six months she had held this position, Agatha had yet to receive a single word of thanks, much less a commendation she most desperately wished for. A commendation meant a chance, an opportunity to become a minor clerk. That was nearly a sideways move in terms of notice, but it was a move, and she would give her right foot for it. As she exited the room of the Minister of Magical Law Enforcement, she nearly ran into the woman herself. A rarity, in itself. Madam Bones almost never sat for morning tea. Not every day was the same, in any case.

"Pardon, madam," Agatha said, side-stepping with alacrity.

Madam Bones nodded, still reading another of those long scrolls they always seemed to have. Were they reports? Bills that they were working on for the Ministry? Reports of dissident activity? Agatha might never know. There had been so much in the Prophet lately about dissidents. They had recently been hiding agents inside Hogwarts to attack students unawares. That had sent a chill down her spine. Agatha had just left Hogwarts, and it had hardly been a peaceful place, particularly around the chaos at last year's end. But the thought of someone waiting for you to turn a wrong corner, alone… How many times had she, herself, been seconds from disaster? She shuddered to think.

At the Minister's office, she tapped twice, a custom at this office. No one entered the Minister's office without at least that much notice. Given the importance, there could be secret matters of utmost urgency being discussed at any time. The tap was a warning to reduce the talk to a pause or to other matters while the staff came and went.

Without waiting for a reply, Agatha opened the door and led in her tray, half its cups and teapots already delivered. The Minister was low over his desk, the lights dim, as though forgotten. The most serious of them often overdid it in their efforts, neglecting light spells and working themselves to exhaustion. She had found four department heads asleep at their desks already this month. It looked like the Minister might be the next to join their ranks. Still, she could not afford to set his tea on an important document by accident in the dark.

Flicking her wand at the light stand in the corner, she raised the illumination to the bare minimum and stepped across the space to his desk. Then, she gasped. A silver dagger stood out in the light, reflecting a cruel sliver of brightness back at her. The Minister for Magic was there, but he wasn't asleep. He was dead; the dagger standing upright in a way that could only be meant for people to see. She could not look away, feeling transfixed by the image, the silver crest on the knife's hilt etching itself into her mind.

Then, she heard screaming and a loud clattering. It took a long moment for her to realise that that scream was her own. She was surrounded in seconds by wizards and witches, dashing forward to check the Minister for vitals, but Agatha was sure it was too late. He hadn't moved a muscle since she entered. Agatha's last thoughts were cut off by a blackness and the feeling of sharp pain as she fell onto one of the shattered teapots.

"How on earth could this happen?" Madam Bones demanded. "He was in the heart of the Ministry, mere metres from a dozen department heads and the floor full of you lot every few steps!"

"I don't know, Madam Head," said one Auror. "The analysis is incomplete, but we can tell he suffered the attack not an hour ago. The Ministry was full of staff by then."

"We must question the tea lady," another Auror said. "After she wakes."

"The poor girl passed out after screaming like a banshee, finding him," Bones sniffed. "She's hardly the culprit… But she might have seen something. See to it…"

"Yes, Madam," he said, bowing.

After a moment, she said, "Have someone with an iota of sympathy question her, this time. Alright?"

"Yes, Madam," he replied again, then left in a hurry.

"And I want every guard of this floor from the last twenty four hours questioned," she said. "Someone saw something. I want to know the name and position of everyone who entered that room, even me. No one is excluded."

"Yes, Madam," another replied, exiting after the first.

"Bring me the other department heads," she said, "and the Prophet liaison. Rita will have a field day if we don't cut that off at the source, immediately. We need answers, not to waste time answering hundreds of reporter questions about every one of our security measures."

The remainder left, off on their assigned tasks. Amelia put her middle finger to the bridge of her glasses while she rubbed her temples with the pinkie and thumb. The soothing motion did little to calm her fury. How on earth had this happened? It was a catastrophe, and on her watch. She would need to tender her resignation. She could already see the first lines… It has been the honour of a lifetime to serve this community, and I have..

"Madam Bones," someone said, breaking into her reverie.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice more snappish than she would like. Amelia took a breath, looked at the man and added, "Yes, Jonathan?"

"We can't find the other Department Heads," he said.

"Which?" she asked, sharply.

"Any of them," he said, flatly.

She looked at Jonathan more closely, and saw that he was pale, deathly pale. Worry lined his forehead, the same worry she felt now. Why would all of the other heads go missing just as the Minister was murdered? Was it fear? Did they worry they were next? Or, were some or all of them somehow involved in this?

"Who do I have?" she asked.

"The Undersecretaries are all at their desks," Jonathan replied. "None of them could tell us where the heads went, though. A few had not yet come in, but should be here by now. Others had arrived and left half an hour or so past."

"Gather the Undersecretaries," she said. "And get officers to check on the other Heads, start at their homes and known places they associate. We can't assume anything bad, but we must be prepared for the worst. And check on the members of the Wizengamot, while you're at it. I want to know if this is an attack on the Ministry's structure."

"Yes, Madam," he said after a moment, making sure she didn't have more orders. Then, he too was gone.

Time passed and Madam Bones went through the incoming reports. The Prophet wanted a statement on the rumours, but the Prophet liaison hadn't arrived yet. She delayed that. They would have plenty to report by the time this was done, worse by the minute if the other Heads stayed away.

"We found Head Malfoy," one clerk came in saying. "He was at home, reading a book, he said. Supposedly it was his day off?"

"If someone hasn't get him here," Bones said, sharply. "No one has a day off today."

She didn't like Malfoy or whom he associated with, but he had a lot of pull with the other Heads. He could help her managed this crisis. A weak shield was still better than none in a battle. Weak shields had saved her head a number of times in her younger years, and she had never forgotten the lessons she had learned. If she could just get another Head or two…

"Madam Bones," one aide said, "the tea lady wants to speak with you directly." His statement held a question in silence.

"Send her in," she said, sighing and putting down the cold tea she had been drinking. If the girl helped in no other way, at least she made a good pot of tea.

The young woman entered, sitting on a chair across the desk from Amelia, looking nervous. Amelia stood, walking around to the girl's side of the desk and took the seat next to her. The girl looked startled and ready to rise, but was cowed by a look from Amelia and a gestured to stay seated.

"What's your name, dear,?" Amelia asked, biting her lip at the thought that she had seen and passed this woman dozens upon dozens of times and never bothered to ask. That was not her proudest thought. She had to banish it, now. This was important.

"A-Agatha Clay," the woman said, sounding as nervous as she looked.

"Well, Agatha," Amelia said, putting a hand on the young woman's shoulder, "I know you have been through something very difficult this morning, but I'm going to need you to be brave for me. Can you do that?"

The young woman nodded, and Amelia could see her steeling herself up and she nodded again.

"I understand you wanted to tell me something?" Amelia said, clasping her hands on her knee, calm.

"I- I think, I think maybe someone else was in the room with me when I f-found him," she managed.

"Really?" Amelia asked.

"It's just a … a feeling I have," Agatha replied. "Like a weight to my right side while I was looking at him. I can't remember it there after people came in, but …"

"The guards said they only saw you go in before he was found," Amelia said. "No one came out before others entered."

"As I said," Agatha replied, "It is what I felt."

Amelia frowned, standing. "Thank you, Agatha," she replied. "If my hunch is right, you just earned quite a commendation. Please wait with the officers outside."

Agatha looked agog, but still in fear and shock. The Head of Department, however, could not stay to help her through the moment. She always felt more abrupt with interviews than she thought she had been when younger. She just didn't have as much time. Everything was urgent, and there was too much danger to wait.

Amelia marched to the Minister's office, ignoring the Aurors who were combing the desk for evidence. Just to the right of the entrance, a bookshelf stood, old and solid. Or so it appeared, leastways. She approached it, wand out, and ran the end over each shelf, looking for some level of magical resonance. On the second shelf from the bottom, she felt a tingle. Probing more slowly, she noticed a book that was slightly ajar. Amelia nudged it with a push spell, and the book clicked into place in the back.

The bookshelf slid into the wall on the right, an impossibility. That wall faced the hallway without, there was no space for the bookshelf to have gone. Amelia nodded to herself. An activated area spell of disappearance. Anything passing through it would disappear and reappear when activated another way. Behind the shelf a large, silver rune sat in the centre of the wall.

"The assassin came in through here," Amelia said, calling attention to everyone around. "Have a team investigate this rune. Can someone get me the status on the remaining Heads? And someone get a commendation on my desk for Agatha Clay for services to the Ministry."

The slowed activity picked up, and Bones left them to it, returning to the hall and making her way to the Minister board room, a better room for coordinating with the other Heads when they arrived, if they arrived. Amelia shook her head. They would be here. Whatever the story here, she would gather a quorum, at least. They needed a new Minister, at the very least. Order and a sense of security were essential. The people would be concerned for their safety, and they needed that stability of a full, steady Ministry. It let them rest at ease as the Ministry handled difficult and dangerous things. That was much better.

Lucius came sauntering in after her, taking a seat at the end of the board table and leaning back. He looked completely relaxed, calm, maybe happy, in point of fact.

"What's making you so rosy?" she asked. "You know what has happened."

Lucius shrugged. "Ministers make enemies," he said. "It's as consistent as a good firewhiskey. I assume you've called us here to select a new one?"

"Ultimately," she said, "and to present a united front to the community. The Prophet wants a statement."

"I'd be happy to-" he began.

"Our Prophet Liaison will pass on our joint message," she responded. "Then, the new Minister will speak to the public. That's the standard protocol."

"So, just waiting on the others, then…" Lucius said, sounding bored.

Madam Bones did not indulge his boredom. She reviewed more papers that had been brought before her. Lucius ignored the slowly building stack in front of himself. She pitied the man's undersecretary trying to get Lucius to put quill to parchment. That had to be a titanic effort.

"I heard there was a knife?" Lucius asked. "Anything particular about it?"

"A silver crest," she said, pushing a paper with a sketch of the crest across the table to him.

While he looked it over, she signed three parchments, issuing new assignments to a dozen Aurors. This would be a busy day, no doubt.

"I always suspected," Lucius said, sniffing. "Old fool got himself into trouble he was not ready for."

"Do you recognise it?" she asked, looking up at him sharply. Was this one of his Death Eater games?

"You know," Lucius said, tossing the paper back towards her, "I've had time for a number of hobbies in my day. At one point, I studied a number of ancient cults of England. That is the crest of the Silver Scions. Quite an intriguing organisation, though flawed, by their criminality, of course."

"The Silver Scions murdered the Minister?" she asked, eyes wide. This would be a disaster if it got out.

"Or someone very much wanted us to believe so," he said, shrugging, his demeanour saying he could not care either way.

"We can work it into the message," she said. "The next Minister will need to make a stand against these rebel groups, bring them down properly. We've been too much in a holding pattern with the Scions and… others."

"We need a new Minister first," Lucius said. "Don't put the trolley before the hippogriff."

"Your lot no doubt have anticipated this," she said, looking at him sternly. "Are they putting up someone?"

"I don't know what lot you could mean," Lucius said. "Of course, I wouldn't mind a go."

"You don't seem the type to want enemies," she said, emphasising the last word.

"All in the service to… the Ministry," he said, suggestively. "Someone has to take the spells flung for our poor, underserved populace."

Amelia snorted. She would buy Lucius' sincerity after she ate an acromantula whole. Still, it could happen. More ludicrous political moves had happened in her day, and Lucius had a lot of support, maybe too much, in the Ministry. She wondered how many had been Imperiused or threatened to build that support. Had He been building to this? It was perfect, in a way, blame a shared enemy - the Silver Scions - and you could walk all over people. Still, there was that Silver emblem on the wall. Maybe it was a Scion matter… It would not be like Lucius to ignore an advantage.

She only wished she had more support or someone she could back with that surety. Amelia frowned, retreating to her paperwork. This would not be an easy day, not at all. Lucius looked oblivious to her worries and problems, but that was hardly new for him. She had never once seen him take a moment of stress from his role, as though it really was just a joke to him.

Amelia had a rebuke fighting to escape, when an aide entered, looking between them.

"P-pardon, Madam Bones, Mister Malfoy," he said, gasping for a breath. It looked like he had run the length of the Ministry several times without stopping. "I… two of the Heads are still missing, Magical Games and Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures… The Aurors are still looking for them, but…"

"But?" Amelia asked.

"But the Heads for International Magical Cooperation, Magical Transportation and Magical Accidents and Catastrophies have been found murdered. The same silver looking knives were used…" the aide said in a rush, looking terrified and flustered at the same time.

"Find out about the other two," Bones replied, trying hard to keep her voice even.

When the aide had left, Bones groaned, "This is a disaster. The Minister and three Heads murdered? The Ministry has never seen the like. We'll have to go into lockdown, identify new leadership… whatever they're plotting… well, we've done little here to stop it."

"I suppose we will," Lucius said, a near laugh in his voice.

Amelia watched him lounge, enjoying his moment. The Heads murdered had mostly been among his fiercest opponents, excepting herself. Why had she and he avoided the knife? What was the Scions or maybe the Death Eaters' game? Who was killing all of the Ministry higher-ups? For now, she was afraid the rest of the community would have to be exposed. The Ministry had to defend its own and track down the killer or killers. That did not sit well with her, not a jot.


	47. Chapter 47: Pieces in Play

"What?" Harry asked.

"Hermione's going to break into the school to get to the library," Neville said. "George said he would go with her. From the look he gave me, it was to keep her out of as much trouble as he could, which seemed strange coming from him."

"He's usually more on the troublemaking side, not the trouble stopping side," Harry said.

Neville had been brought to him directly in Sirius' kitchen. Harry had converted it into a central operations location since Dumbledore had left. The table also had Remus deeply engrossed in a heaping stack of parchments, reports coming out of Scotland and correspondence from France.

Harry rubbed his temples, trying to focus. Despite the Occlumency, he had felt a sudden pang or two of pain from his scar. Voldemort must be feeling something quite strongly for that to make it through. Letting his fingers fall to the table, he sighed. What was Hermione doing?

"She must have found out something important," he said. "Hermione's not one to be that hasty. Are you sure she wasn't going back for the tree?"

"No," Neville said, fingering the diadem in his hands with nervous energy. "She got a pair of letters, one addressed to each of you. Hermione only read hers, but took yours, as well. After she read it, she looked… upset, but then stood and declared she had to go find something in the library. Then, she left. George said he was going with her. That's all I could get out of them."

"Maybe she found out something that could help us fight You-Know-Who," Harry reasoned. "I don't think much else would have dragged her back into the middle of that. The Aurors are likely still looking for us."

"You're going after them, though, right?" Neville asked. He looked concerned.

"I don't know," Harry replied, letting out another sigh. "I want to, but the last time I showed up in public, Fred got dragged off for questioning. Would this just be the same again? And it doesn't help that I haven't seen her since all of that happened. A lot has happened, and I want to see that she's safe. Are the other students well?"

"They're resting," Neville said. "Sirius offered to bring the whole lot over, but most were sleeping. I left word with the couple still up that I was going to check on you and Fred and let everyone know about George and Hermione… Are you sure you don't want to go? I can show you the way in that Vinken took us through. That's likely the way Hermione went. I'd never seen anything like it."

"I -" Harry began, his voice dying in his throat. "You know I want to, Neville. I would risk a duel with Vol- You-Know-Who for her, but the Ministry is getting into the middle of this, and that can cause problems for people around me much more than he can. The Ministry can make it hard to travel, hard to do almost anything."

"They sure scared you, didn't they?" Neville asked, frowning. "The Harry I remember in school wouldn't have hesitated."

"That Harry has had to learn a few too many lessons over again," he replied, remembering.

"Is it that bad?" Neville asked. After a pause, he added, "In Azkaban, I mean. Was it that bad?"

"I didn't quite get there," Harry said. "An Auror helped me escape just before we reached the building. How did you hear about it?"

"Dumbledore told us," Neville said, quietly.

"Well, whatever he said," Harry replied, "I was freed before I got there. And if you've been near enough one of those dementors, you know what that's like. It's not something I would wish on anyone."

"You-Know-Who?" Neville asked.

"Well, maybe," Harry replied, shaking his head. "He has a lot to answer for. I think I would prefer they didn't exist at all, frankly. They're nightmares."

Neville nodded, absently. Harry could see the exhaustion, the weight on the young man's shoulders. They were the same age, but Harry saw the strain of it, as if it had aged his friend early. Did he look like that, too? Could ending this war undo that? Could any of them go back to what they had been before…? Before what? Harry nearly laughed at it. He'd been fighting Voldemort and his followers since his first year in school. What innocence of youth was there in saving friends from capture and torment at age eleven? Voldemort had _much_ to answer for.

"Fine," Neville said, rising. "If you won't be the impulsive one, maybe it's my turn. I'll go protect them, and you can come to make sure I don't get in too much of a mess."

"And the students?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Remus, could you check on them?" Neville asked, looking down the table.

"If you're asking me to willingly ignore the fact that you two are running into certain danger and, further, enable that by taking up one of your duties…" Remus said, glancing up with a calm, but resigned look, "things never change, do they?"

Harry frowned. When had he done that for them before?

"Not a bit, Moony," Sirius said, strolling into the kitchen. "Who's walking into danger? How did I miss out on planning it? I didn't miss out completely, did I? Seriously. It's been ages since I got a chance to cause trouble."

"Mr. Longbottom is trying to convince Harry to break into Hogwarts after Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have already done so," Remus said.

"Wait," Fred said, bursting into the room. "That git escaped the school and went to break into it, without me? Did I hear that correctly?"

"Hold on," Harry said. "No one said we were going back.

"Of course we are, Harry," Sirius said. "You can be the gallant knight, there to save your fair damsel in distress. I take it she is in distress?"

"She did look upset before she decided to go," Neville said, smiling.

"There we go," Sirius said. "Can you really leave her in a time of need, Harry? I mean, Remus, Fred, Neville and I are already going, no?"

"Who said _I_ was going?" Remus asked, glaring at Sirius.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. "Of course, you're going!" he exclaimed. "Someone has to be the adult. Sheesh. How many times have we been through this discussion, Moony?"

"Might I remind you, you are an adult?" Remus asked.

"You take that back! You take that back right now!" Sirius exclaimed, mock angry.

Remus simply rolled his eyes at his friend. Neville cut in, though, before either could say more.

"But we need someone to look after the other students," he said. "The ones we got out of the school just recently?"

"They can fend for themselves," Sirius said, waving casually. "Unless some of them want to come? Much more fun as a crowd."

"People would see us," Harry cut in. "Too many people will be noticed."

"Glad you're onboard now, Harry," Sirius said, a sly look on his face.

"Wait, I didn't…" Harry began, but Sirius had him by the arm.

"So, are we Apparating to the gate? Storming it from the front?" he asked. "Maybe we could ride in a couple of Acromantulas. They have a few of them in the forest still, right? I could divert to the forest for them…"

"Are you mad?" Neville asked, suddenly looking worried about his newest support. He gestured with the diadem at Sirius, a sweeping motion in the air in front of him. "Who would _want_ to go near those things?"

"Nah!" Sirius said. "The trick is to cast a Confundus Charm on their eyes before you climb on. They're pretty easy to direct with your knees if you get them going. Ask Remus."

"That was a terrible idea last time, and it's no better this time," Remus replied. "It's supposed to be a sneaky entrance. People would notice an acromantula entering the school. Besides, Neville said he already had a careful way in…"

"Wait," Remus said, his eyes focusing. "Neville… what is that you are swinging around?"

"Oh," Neville said, holding it up. "Claire Runden found it in the Room of Requirement. We think it might be the diadem of Ravenclaw. Not really sure how to check if it is a horcrux, though."

"Give it here," Remus said, taking the offered relic. "I'll see if we can check it, somehow. Albus seems to have a way of testing them… If so, you all have our thanks. One less barrier to stopping You-Know-Who would be…"

"Excuse me," Sirius interrupted. "I think the acromantula idea is still up for discussion."

"It isn't an acromantula idea," Remus said, looking annoyed. "It never _was_ an acromantula idea, and it never _will be_ an acromantula idea."

"We were talking about the tree entrance to the school," Neville replied. "It's a tunnel the only the house elves use. And, _no_ , acromantulas would not fit into the tunnel." He said the last looking at Sirius.

"I bet the smaller ones could," Sirius said, sounding defensive.

"No giant spiders," Harry said, cutting Sirius off. "If you're so keen on doing this, we'll need to be a small group and sneaky. At least we have three Order members with us, but we can't just dash in again. That never works out. Tell me about this entrance, Neville. Maybe it isn't so secret as you think."

Harry found himself, still bewildered how they had talked him into it, Side-Along Apparating into a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest with Remus. Sirius appeared nearby with Neville and Fred on either side of him. Remus' face had taken on a long-suffering expression while his friend had the excitement of a third year first entering Honeydukes. Sirius was having far too much fun with this.

Harry was also worried what the rest of the Order would think when they found Sirius' note. The man could not help but sound excited in his writing, either. Whatever Remus had said, Sirius had the energy of a teenager, not a bit different from the twins. He just hoped they could be done and back, with everyone safe before Molly Weasley heard about this excursion. She was liable to give them a yelling none of them would soon forget.

"Where's that entrance, Neville?" he asked, hoping to hurry them along.

"It's just around here," Neville said. "It was a bit dark then, so my memory isn't perfect. But we were about this close to the edge of the wood."

"Spread out," Sirius said. "Go out in each direction and call out if you see something. If no one finds anything, come back here in two minutes. Just walk in a straight line and look for a tree like Neville described."

"Spreading out is a bad idea," Harry said. "Maybe we go it in twos? Watch each other?"

"Fine," Sirius said. "Harry, you're with me. Maybe we can find some-"

"Sirius…" Remus warned, shutting his friend up. "I'll stay here, watch for any trouble."

Harry pulled out his wand. There shouldn't be any wizards out here, but there were magical creatures in the forest, including the acromantulas Sirius wouldn't stop talking about. _Honestly_. Harry nearly laughed. That had sounded almost exactly like Hermione in his head. He hoped she was alright. Gritting his teeth, Harry started walking one way with Sirius beside him, glancing behind him to nod at the Fred and Neville pair, as they went their respective directions. Remus and Sirius gave each other a thumbs up as the groups moved.

Going in a straight line was harder than Harry would have thought in the Forbidden Forest. There were trees at random intervals that forced his path to adjust constantly. Harry did feel like they were largely walking straight, however. For the first several steps, Harry heard the others crashing through the undergrowth, but that faded as he progressed. Soon, only his and Sirius' own steps and breathing were audible. The trees here were varying from thinner than his arm to large enough to obstruct his vision. Still, none of them had that distinctive door Neville had seen.

As he thought about suggesting a return to their starting point, Harry felt a sharp strike on his back, knocking him forward. His wand grip slipped and something pulled the wand away entirely as his upper half was suddenly squeezed in a thick binding of ropes. His mouth was blocked by a spell, his yells making no sound.

A thud nearby turned his head. Sirius was groaning on the ground, muttering in pain. Sighing, Harry realised he had no defence. Why had he listened to those two? After taking Order members and extra precautions, an enemy had still taken them out unawares.

"Grab him, let's go," said a muffled voice. "Leave the other one. He won't find us."

An arm took his, and he was twisted into Apparition, landing almost immediately in front of the school's main entrance. He nearly fell in the landing, off balance from the binding, but a firm hand on his side kept him upright. Why was someone taking him _to_ the school? The Aurors wouldn't. Who was this?

A pair of figures in Silver lined robes appeared ahead of him, and he was nudged ahead, a wand at his back, following the other two. Harry managed to glance side to side as he walked and could see another pair of them. The Silver Scions? He knew why they were after him, but why the school? And shouldn't they have given up? They failed to take him last time. Riddle wasn't strong enough. Were they after something different, this time?

"You know the way to that room?" one asked the lead Scion.

Harry listened, trying to recognise voices. The first one was the same that had spoken in the forest, but it was too muffled to be clear. Harry also wondered if the others had noticed he was gone, yet. They would be sure to do so, but where would they look for him? Even he couldn't have foreseen being dragged to the very place he had been trying to go.

"Yes, yes," the lead said. "The old Grand Silver had detailed notes about it. That has to be the nexus we have been seeking. The convergence of energy will enable our master to rise from this insignificant child."

"And the tree is in there somewhere," another said. "We went through this. That will be the fuel to light the fire in him."

"Just seems like a big risk," the first said. "You don't think the Aurors up there will-"

"They'll be gone, now," the lead said, laughing. "All Ministry officials will be racing to the Ministry this morning. No one will care about an outpost like this when they've lost a Minister and a few Heads of Department this morning. A happy overlap in our plans. That the Potter brat would appear just where the others had Apparated not an hour ago was perfect timing."

Harry eyed them, hard. Was it a lie? What good would that do if they intended to finish what they had started? Maybe he had to lose hope to help them implant Riddle in him… But why _that_ lie? It was a strange one, given they must know Harry had no love for the current Minister. If it was true, though… The other thing they had said… Had they caught Hermione and George, too? He couldn't see them anywhere. Maybe they had not been interested in the other two. The had left Sirius behind, in any case. He could only hope.

"You don't think they will cause a problem?" one said. "The Aurors may be gone, but Potters friends cause chaos enough."

"Reports put them in the library," the Scion to Harry's right answered. "We have agents ready to take them if they decide to leave before we're done."

"But-" the other began, only to be cut off.

"You going soft?" the leader asked, not turning. "We all knew what we agreed to here. The leadership was _weak._ It needed changing, and we brought that. Four heads and the Grand Silver, laid out as an example to the other members. Now, they all follow. There's no hesitation, no working slowly for centuries in the shadows. That is the way of cowards. Are _you_ cowards?"

"No, Grand Silver," the one beside Harry said, echoing the others around.

Harry considered. It sounded as though there had been some dissent in the ranks at the Silver Scions, and several important figures had been killed. Did that include the Minister? Harry knew he had allied with Voldemort, but maybe he also had been a Scion. It wasn't too much of a stretch to see it.

If these were the more militant of the group, it would be of value to stop these Scions. Capturing them could make a big difference in the escalating struggle. The leader ahead of him, seemed pretty high up in the group. Maybe, if things worked out, they could end the group entirely. He just needed to find a way out of his bindings, first.

One of them had his wand. Harry watched the ones ahead for anything odd. Their robes were too loose to show a second wand in pockets, but someone had it. A light rattle sound that could only be wood casually striking wood came with the frequency of their footsteps. They approached the school without anyone apparently noticing.

Harry was surprised to realise he had no idea what day of the week it was. If it was a school day, most of the students were probably in a class, and the professors - therefore - would be, too. If it was a weekend, well, most might be in bed at this point, unless there was a Quidditch game, of course.

Harry could still turn his head, and the Quidditch pitch was at the edge of his vision, from here. The air above the pitch, at least, was empty. That didn't mean there wasn't a match about to begin, but likely there would be stragglers racing down to find seats, if it was near match-time. Likewise, the grounds were empty, in general. The balance of probability said that the students had probably gone to classes this morning. How long until the next bell? And if they were in the hallways as students traversed them, would they actually help him?

It felt strange, coming back here. The last time Harry had gone in through that front doorway, he had been sent to Gibraltar. To return like this, bound and carried by the Scions reminded him a lot of that dark night. Scions had been a large part of that attack, too. All that was missing was Death Eaters and Voldemort. Well, of course, he didn't miss them. They could stay away. It would be better for everyone if they did.

The lead Scions opened the door into the school, and they passed through the empty Entrance Hall. Harry frowned. It was quiet. On one hand, that made rescue harder. On the other, the students might stay out of this mess. It wasn't their problem, in truth. Harry had gotten himself into this, despite any blame he might want to throw at Sirius and Neville. He had to take responsibility for his own part. Maybe he could break free if they let his ropes loose in the room. They would think they had him there. At the least, he might have his mouth free to start.

When they were nearly at the Grand Stairs, the doors to the Great Hall opened wide. A half dozen figures in black emerged, brandishing their wands, Death Eater masks clearly marking their allegiance. Harry's eyes bulged. Of all the people…

"Predictable Scions," laughed one of them in the back as the others started firing off spells. "Distract with an attack on the Ministry only to come after the boy here. Fortunately, we were not dependent on the Aurors to watch the school…"

Startled Scions turned, but spells had begun to fly up at them. The one to Harry's left crumpled as he was struck by a violent blast of green. The rope and muting spell on Harry dissolved. Harry turned to see his wand tumble from the man's robe with his own, the pair bouncing into the middle of the hall. He didn't hesitate.

Leaping forward, Harry grabbed his wand and began shielding himself as he sprinted for the front doors. " _Protego! Protego! Protego Maxima!"_

He immediately felt the shield bombarded by attacks, but they did not break. The front door neared when a blast shook the walls, and the front doors flew inward to reveal more Scions, darting in and aiming spells at everyone. Diverted, Harry flew towards the nearest hallway, throwing spells in every direction he could manage. He had no idea if any of them landed. A blur of red and green flew through the air, and the room became very crowded. Harry dodged the grasping hands of a Scion and ducked under a Death Eater's outstretched wand, feeling the spell fly by him. The hair on his arms stood on end as he felt the nearness of it.

The noise from yells, spells and the crashing sounds as spells struck parts of the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall and the Grand Stair made it impossible to gauge fully what was happening. Harry just found himself running as hard as he could for the nearest hallway. His shields were not holding after so much bombardment and it took all of his focus to keep moving. A blast near him sent him tumbling into the hallway, smacking the side of the wall. It had struck and fully dissolved his shield, but at least he hadn't felt the blast, himself.

The hallway he knew ran along the side of the school, looping back around to a courtyard toward the back of the ground floor. He could make for that, but was it safe to assume Scions weren't there? Could he leave the school, either? He had brought this fight. The students were exposed. Moreover, Hermione and George were here, just a few floors up. They would have heard the commotion. It might draw them out, and he knew that Scions were waiting for the pair of them to emerge.

Steeling himself, Harry raced up a secret path in the corridor, hoping beyond hope that he could reach the library before his friends ran into a trap. A part of him still hoped the students would stay out of it, but here, a floor up and a hallway away, the sounds of fighting increased. A battle had begun at Hogwarts. No one was really safe.


	48. Chapter 48: Battle Lines

Hermione felt desperate. She had used the best concealment charms she could think of, but was fairly certain Madam Pince had noticed something. Every time the woman walked by the Restricted Section, her eyes scanned it with more intensity than Hermione had ever seen. Madam Pince was always intense about books.

Still, they had not been directly confronted, and that was something. The danger of the location and the pressure to avoid being found did not create her desperation. They were byproducts of it, but not the cause. She had to find a way. That was all there was to it. Harry needed to live, and no one had more information about magic than the Hogwarts library. There would be a book here. Maybe they could fool the horcrux into leaving Harry, or he could transfer it to a piece of parchment or… something! So far, nothing had been found.

Hermione noticed an odd motion to her left. George. She had had to tell him what she was looking for. He had put himself in front of her in the tunnel and refused to move out of her way until she opened up. Fine. He could know. But only if he helped. Surprisingly, George had agreed to assist. He wasn't as good a researcher as Harry, but Harry certainly could not be brought into this, not until they had solved it. He would know about it when she had the plan all worked out, all contingencies planned for. Harry would live, and he had no bloody choice in the matter.

A rumble shook the school, and Hermione started, nearly dropping the book she held on lifting ancient curses. It was brief, but strong. If she could feel it here, most of the school would have noticed it. She slipped over to the wall closest to a window, looking out. The grounds had been empty when they had passed the windows earlier, reflecting the early Tuesday she was pretty sure it must be. Most everyone but Filch and the Headmaster would be in class at this point in the day. However, they were not empty now. Dozens of robes figures in black and silver, and maybe some others sprinted towards the school from different directions. They were divided enough in direction that she had to assume they were not friendly.

Then, the spells began to fly between the groups, several still running onward, but a number stopping to fight. The glass rattled from the impact of the heated spells rippling through the air. Hermione looked over her shoulder, seeing that blurred motion. George was seeing this, too.

"What's happening?" he asked, whispering quietly.

"I don't know," she said. "A battle on the grounds. Maybe… maybe we should…"

"You two should leave," an authoritative voice said.

Hermione spun fully about, finding Madam Pince at the end of the row, looking at them. Had she heard them? Was she going to turn them in?

"Whatever is happening down there," Pince said, "it has spilled into the castle. I found a pair of those silver robed men outside the library."

She pointed to a couple men trussed up on the ground just outside the Restricted Section. How had she put them there so quietly?

"Can you remove those spells?" Pince asked. "It's bothering my eyes and won't do you any good out there."

Hermione flicked her wand, saying, " _Finite."_ She could hear George doing the same. The woman didn't look the slightest bit surprised.

"Now, get going," she said. "I left you to it when there was no danger. After all, the Aurors all left this morning, and we had one morning of peace and quiet."

"You _knew_ we were here?" George asked.

"Yes," she stated, simply. Her eyes drilling into his own. "And I knew she would keep you on your best behaviour in there, Mister Weasley. Your purpose must have been dire to break in for it. I hope you found what you needed. Go down the back stairs to the courtyard. Maybe you can avoid the worst of this…"

Another rumble sounded, causing a groaning in the structure. Hermione saw Madam Pince's eyes go wide. She looked around at her precious books and seemed to forget them. George took her hand and tugged, pulling them past the woman and into the open section of the library. Other than the pair of bound men, the remainder of the space was unoccupied.

Hermione looked back at Madam Pince, and the woman had looked at them again. Her eyes were filled with concern and her wand was out. She looked about to say something, but Hermione waved to her.

"Thank you, Madam Pince," she said.

Before the woman could say anything, the pair of them hurried out of the library, wands out. Hermione led the way, slipping down the secret stair they had used to come up here. It was one of several she had learned from Harry. The main stairs could be covered with fighters, and she didn't even know who they were or what they were fighting over. Well, one group in black could be the Death Eaters. They usually wore that colour, but the school robes were black, too. Was it an attack on the school to go after students? Should she rally the DA, Ginny? Was fleeing the better idea?

"Wait," Hermione said as George started for a final stair down to the courtyard. "We need to find out what's going on. Are the students in danger?"

George's face broke into a smile. His worry fell away. "That's mad, that is," he said. "Let's do it!"

"Nothing too mad," she said. "If we find a good vantage of the Entrance Hall, we may be able to see who is there…"

"And use some spying charms to listen to what they're planning," George said, his voice sounding thoughtful. He frowned. "As long as we can do more reckless things after that, I'll be good."

"There's nothing safe about being here today," she said. "We've taken awful risks, already. I just can't leave if the students are defenceless."

"Don't underestimate them, too much," he said. "Still, what Gryffindor would run when the odds were against them?"

Hermione smiled, but didn't answer. They made their way to towards the entrance, hearing the sounds of battle increase. Dozens of booms and thuds sounded ahead, below and above them. Whatever advantage in escaping they might have had, it was swiftly deserting them. The battle had nearly encircled them.

As they turned a corner, Hermione could see the landing on the second floor. Flashes of light flew up the stairwell, but they seemed erratic, inaccurate. Reflected spells or ones clearly missing their targets and flying out into the castle proper. Still, best not to be an easy target for a mistake.

" _Protego Maxima!"_ she said, slipping forward as the shield fell around her.

George mimicked her preparation, and ran ahead of her, his wand ready to fight. He looked as focused as she had ever seen one of the twins, no amount of amusement in his face. She could understand that. He would also be missing his brother.

A few figures flew up the stairs, firing spells at each other. Neither stayed long enough for Hermione to make out who they were, but they also did not slow to look in her and George's direction. Hermione and George continued forward, coming to the landing. The noise had grown, but most of it rose up from the Entrance Hall.

Carefully, Hermione looked over the edge, watching the battle ensue. A few black robed and silver-lined robed figures lay prone, but the floor of the Entrance floor looked the worst for it. Large tears had appeared in the floor, raising up mounds of rock into the space. Sides had formed up behind the magic-wrought stalagmites, and most of the fighting, for the moment, appeared to be quick attacks around the edges that struck the rocks or missed entirely. They were in a fortified position, and neither side was budging particularly.

Hermione squinted, taking a closer look at the figures. The ones in black were definitely Death Eaters. She recognised the look and the terrible white masks they wore. The others were a bit of a mystery. The robes were of a pale, nearly opal colour with a silver lining along the bottom, the sleeves and the hoods that were pulled well over their heads. Maybe the Silver Scions had started wearing more formal robes? She had only heard about them battling from Harry and seen some in disguise before - she was certain. Had their enmity come to a final confrontation? Why was it happening here?

That last bit bothered her. It couldn't be because she and George had come to the school, could it? If it was, wouldn't they have been after the pair of them? She breathed in hard. Maybe they had. Madam Pince had taken out two of the Scions - a feat that terrified Hermione in itself, the woman was certainly fierce. She had assumed the battle had just started moving around, but other than a few going past a moment ago, Hermione hadn't seen anyone else rising. Besides, the Library was hardly a place they would have come moments after the battle began. It was several floors above the ground.

"The Scions are talking about… the boy, a boy that got away from them," George said, looking sidelong at Hermione. "Hermione, I think the Scions were trying to use Harry again. He could be here, somewhere…"

"We should…" Hermione said.

"Wait," he said. "You wanted information, so we should find out why the Death Eaters are here. Maybe the Scions just interrupted their attack on the school."

He flicked his wand to the left, and held a little nub to his ear tightly. One of his and Fred's gadgets, no doubt, for a gag. Still, quite useful in a pinch. They didn't have to come anywhere near the enemy to spy. Hermione looked over. Whatever he was using was too small to spot.

George frowned. "They're just talking about the Scions," he said. "Something… finally… crush… it's hard to hear with all of those spells hitting. Maybe I can…"

A blast knocked them both backwards. Hermione landed hard on her back, and saw the ledge they had been leaning against fall, collapsing as the Reductor Curse shattered it to pieces. Hermione felt her head spin, but it steadied after a moment. The shield charms had protected both of them from the worst of it.

George pushed himself back up, and he held a hand out to assist her in rising. Both of them remained in a crouch, however, avoiding the edge and becoming a target again. Whomever had spotted them was still out there, probably watching. Hermione firmed the grip on her wand, and thought. Was it better to let them battle it out amongst the two groups and then interfere afterwards or try to force them out of the castle? Would they be able to remove them from their positions. Being above gave some advantages, but - as they had just seen - there wasn't any real cover here.

On the other hand, if George was correct, Harry was here, somewhere. Getting him out could be important, too. He could not afford to confront Voldemort, not yet. She had to figure out a solution. There was time yet for that, Hermione was sure of it.

"What are you two doing here?" snarled a voice from behind.

Hermione had just enough time to dodge as a curse flew at the spot she and George had been crouching. As she moved, she saw Alecto, one of the two Carrows, pointing his wand at George. Hermione flung a curse back at the man, tying up his legs and dropping him to the stone floor with a loud slap. Amycus followed his sister, raining spells down on the landing. Hermione flew down the stairs, taking the stairs six at a leap and barely stopping herself from tumbling down towards the ground.

Launching herself into the first floor corridor, Hermione looked back and only saw flying spells from where she had been. Where George had gone, she was not sure. All she knew was that the pair above would be dangerous to face on her own. They hadn't been looking to stun or disarm. The air was green with their hateful spells.

Hermione ducked around a corridor entrance, feeling a spell sizzle past her. Which of them had come for her? Had they left George alone and come together?

Alecto's voice called out, mock childish, "Come out, come out little girl. It won't hurt a bit. If you don't, I promise it will. If you think your little rope trick will work again, you will learn better, however briefly!"

Hermione said nothing, bracing to attack when the woman came into view. She gritted her teeth and firmed her back against the wall. She would not run. There was nowhere she could reach, in any case. Not in time.

Alecto leapt into the corridor, her wand moving with viper quick speed towards Hermione. Glee filled the foul woman's face. Then, before she could cast a spell, her wand changed into an actual snake. The woman shrieked, dropping it to the ground as ropes bound her once more.

Turning around, Hermione almost ran headlong into Professor McGonagall. The older woman was coming out onto the landing with a wand drawn, face taut with tension, eyes scanning for more signs of threat. She looked at Hermione, then, shocked.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"Long story," Hermione said, "but it seems the Scions and the Death Eaters decided to have a battle downstairs that is flooding the school. The Carrows attacked George and me just now, but I don't know if that's related."

"The Scions?" Alecto cried. "Those snakes!"

"Quiet, you," the professor said, gagging the woman with a graceful sweep of her wand. "Miss Granger, Get to my office. I'll see if we can settle this diplomatically. I'm certain they don't…"

Her response stopped as she saw a large chunk of the rotating staircase up to the third floor explode, hailing the space below it with chunks of wood. Hermione put a hand on her old professor's arm.

"I don't think they're in a negotiating mood," she said. "And we can help. Besides, I think Harry's here, somewhere. The Scions were saying something about it, and I won't just hide while he's caught up in this."

"Fool boy," McGonagall said, her voice betraying the worry. "What's he got himself into this time?" Gritting her teeth, McGonagall cast a silvery blue spell that looked very much like a cat. It leapt away in a fuzzy haze, disappearing after a few paces. "I've sent for some help, but you need to be careful. The professors are scattered across the school, and help won't be here for some time, I expect."

"Help, miss?" asked a boy's voice. "Who needs help?"

Hermione turned to see dozens of students emerging from a nearby classroom. She thought she recognised the boy and a few others from DA the previous year. He was a Slytherin, but the group was a mix of Slytherins and Gryffindors. After a second, it clicked in her mind. This was the floor where Defence Against the Dark Arts met for class. If she had heard correctly, the Carrows had been in charge of that class, or one of them. He or she must have gone upstairs after the attack, but why? Perhaps to meet the sibling? Whatever the reason, the students had been left to their own direction.

A few of them noticed her, now, waving and calling out her name. Hermione waved back, but said nothing. She wasn't sure how to answer them. McGonagall stepped between her and them, however.

"Please return to your classroom," McGonagall said. "There is a minor…"

BOOM. The Grand Stair shook sending a vibration through Hermione's teeth. She nearly laughed at McGonagall's insistence that this was minor, and the students clearly were not buying it.

"Hermione," the boy said, "let us help. The DA is always ready to help."

"You're not of age," McGonagall said, sternly.

"Give us detention, then," the boy said, frowning. "When we all get through this safely, I don't think anyone will complain. DA, fall in. Hermione, is Harry or Neville here, too?"

"I think Harry might be," she said, feeling a balloon of hope within. The DA acting could make a difference. "And George Weasley is upstairs. Wh-what was your name again?"

"I'm Francis Bode, sixth year," the boy said. "Where do you need us?"

"Protect the stairs going upward," Hermione said. "And down, from this floor. Most of the students are above us, right? The majority are fighting each other on the ground floor, but they might come up, at least until help comes and the other professors are here. Professor?"

Hermione eyed the elder woman, worried. She was as likely to drag the lot of them - herself included - into a classroom, and have the door locked on them with some magic even Hermione could not break through. And she could do it, too.

"I will contact the others," McGonagall said. "Stay out of the fight below, whatever you do. If I hear a single one of you went charging down onto the ground floor, you will wish I had just given you a detention!"

"Thanks, Professor," Hermione said. "I'm looking for Harry. And," she added to the students as they started to break into groups, "be careful. The other Carrow is above us and they were not fighting to wound. Watch each others' backs."

"We might have to fight a professor?" another student asked.

"It's Amycus," Francis said, dismissive. "If he attacks us, we need to defend ourselves. You remember what he did in those detentions…"

Several of the students nodded together and the other student said nothing in reply. Whatever the Carrows had done to the students in their care, it had not sown much love for them. Having met them, even briefly, Hermione could not say she had an argument against that. She nodded to Francis, the boy who seemed to have taken charge amidst the students. Then, she left, directing herself towards a back corridor stair to the ground level. If she saw Harry down here in the back hallways, she could get him out of harm's way. An image flashed in her mind of Harry trapped, fighting for his life amidst the firefight below.

Fear flooded her mind, as much as she tried to push it away. After breaking in to save him from one danger, he could have run into a completely different one! She came to the ground floor and her attention was dragged away from her reverie. The battle raged nearby, but it was not currently in her corridor. She had re-affixed her shield charms, but proceeded cautiously towards the nearest courtyard. If he was in the Entrance Hall, well, that was not something she could easily extract him from. Though, she would have hoped his presence there would have made a big difference in the on-going battle. Harry was rather good at duelling.

A Death Eater appeared at the end of the hall, mask askew and robe looking singed in several spots. Despite this, Hermione could not be sure who it was. The figure sent a spell down at her, but Hermione stepped out of the way before he had pointed his wand. She countered with a trip jinx, but the Death Eater put up a shield just before it landed. His counter-spell was a horrid purple flash that nearly hit Hermione in the chest.

Then, before Hermione could send a spell at him in response, the Death Eater staggered and stumbled into a wall. Hermione frowned, looking at the figure uncertainly. Was it a trick to get her to come closer? She adjusted the grip on her wand and moved forward. Hermione kept the wand trained on the figure, but also kept an eye out for other dangers. There was a battle still going on behind her.

Before she had gone a dozen paces forward, though, the mystery of the Death Eater's collapse was solved. Tonks, the Auror and Order member came running past. She paused, seeing Hermione, and turned in her path to intercept.

"Wotcher, Hermione," the woman said. "McGonagall said you'd be running around somewhere. Good work distracting him while I took him down, eh? Dolohov would be a beast on his own. Shouldn't be able to rise for a few hours, I expect. Ha!"

"Thanks, Tonks," Hermione said. "Are you alone?"

"The others are heading towards the Entrance Hall," she said.

"Others?" Hermione asked.

"Probably half of the Order, by now," she said. "They heard You-Know-Who is somewhere around, too. Whatever the Death Eaters and Scions are doing, they are here in force. So, we need to be, too."

"Have you seen Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Not yet," the woman replied. "But Sirius sent a message to get all of you kids at least up to floor two. He's got something planned. Not sure what to make of that."

A boom sounded, sending a cloud of dust floating down the hallway towards them. The way into the Entrance Hall was even more hazy than before. Flashes of light still flowed around behind that, illuminating the hallway in an eerie, other-worldly light.

"I'll go warn the students on floor one," Hermione said. "I don't think Harry's down here, not in all this."

"Good, go," Tonks said. "And let other professors know, if you see them."

"Alright," Hermione said, hurrying back to the nearest stair behind a curtain. "See you later. Keep safe!"

"You too," the woman said, brandishing her wand and sending a ball of fire past Hermione into the fray.

What exactly was Sirius planning that required them to leave the Ground and first floor? Something mad, no doubt, if he was anything like the twins. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing in the midst of this. She hurried up to the first floor, and found a half dozen students waiting, wands trained on her when she emerged.

"Sirius sent a message to get everyone up to level two," she said as they relaxed. "I don't know what he's doing, but be careful."

They saluted her and ran off. Hermione might have been amused if the situation wasn't so serious. Being treated like a commanding officer was a strange thing, indeed, even after her work in the DA and in the first few months of hiding. She shook it off and found another upward stair, this one in a crevice behind a statue of some obscure old witch.

A renewed explosion sound caught her ear as Hermione arrived up on three, skipping two for the moment to avoid the remaining Carrow - if she could. Getting caught up in random duels was not her purpose. At a run, Hermione found herself at the Grand Stair looking down. A pair of acromantulas stepped inward, creating a cry of horror from a number of those below. She squinted, though, as she thought she saw…

Sirius Black was riding the front one, crying out, "Get them my pretties!" A few spells bounced off a shield he was maintaining, and a dozen more spells rebounded harmlessly off of the legs and body of the giant spider. Then, the beast charged, and Sirius had all the bearing of a mad king in a fairy tale. Hermione watched for a second as the Scions and Death Eaters scattered, the acromantula knocking the unlucky slow ones down with its swift limbs.

Hermione was wrong. Sirius was worse than the twins. He was insane. Still, if it was directed at that lot, who was she to argue? More people entered the school, but Hermione could not make out any particular robe colour. Perhaps it was the Order group that Tonks had come with. How had they let Sirius do something that ridiculous? Shaking her head, Hermione turned away, continuing her search for Harry.

"HARRY POTTER!" cried a cold, hard voice that reverberated through the walls. "I KNOW YOU ARE IN HOGWARTS, AND I TIRE OF THIS GAME. I HAVE THREE HUNDRED WIZARDS AND WITCHES OUTSIDE THE CASTLE. THEY ARE PREPARED TO WIPE OUT EVERY LAST SNIVELLING MEMBER OF THE SCIONS AND YOUR LITTLE ORDER, IF YOU DO NOT COME OUT TO FACE ME, YOURSELF. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR TO DECIDE. MY FORCES WILL NOW RETREAT AND LET YOU AND THE SCIONS PLAY, NICELY, NO DOUBT. YOU CANNOT CALL FOR HELP AND NO ONE MAY LEAVE. IF YOU HAVE NOT ENTERED THE FORBIDDEN FOREST BY HOUR'S END… WE ARE COMING."

Hermione turned back to the Entrance Hall. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but the pair of acromantulas raced out of the entry doors, chased by a dozen hooded figures blasting them with heavy spells. Others in black followed, laying heavy spell attacks across the hall, setting fires on anything flammable and sending stone blocks tumbling. Hermione realised she had held her breath, and released it as the Death Eaters departed.

They wanted Harry. He had to face them, to end Voldemort once and for all. He had to… die for it. No. It was too soon! Hermione fumed. What could she do? Maybe they could hold off the Death Eaters. Perhaps the three hundred number was a bluff. But what if it wasn't? In any case, Harry didn't know the truth. She hadn't had time to show him. Or, rather, she had done everything she could to not tell him. Hermione could have gone to him, immediately, on learning the truth. But, she hadn't. She had chosen to go hide from her problem in the library. Now, there was no time. There were no good options. She had to find him and give him the letter. Then, she would lose him.

Pain stabbed her heart at the thought of it. How could it be so? Harry… Hermione looked around as though hoping answers would spring out of the scarred stonework walls. No hope. No way forward. What was she going to do?


	49. Chapter 49: The Decision

Harry crouched down, checking the pulse of the robed figure he had come across. It was there. He sighed, rising. He knew too little of healing magic to help directly, and fully reviving a Silver Scion now seemed foolish.

In the past ten minutes, Harry had come across a number of injured. The sudden departure of the Death Eaters had been a temporary relief. The battle had not quite ended as the Scions continued to hold the Great Hall and attempt to attack from there. Harry had seen a few Order members helping the injured and running on who knew what orders. No one had stopped to speak, maybe they didn't want to be the ones to advise him on what to do.

A glance out of a nearby window gave Harry as much confidence in Voldemort's claim as he could get visually. A giant ring of dark robed figures encircled the school. They stood, still, and waited. Of course, it could be an illusion. Harry had seen enough of the enemy's deceptions to believe what Voldemort said or what his eyes told him at a distance. It smelled of a trap. The question was, did he spring the trap and see what was in it or wait and call the enemy's bluff. Voldemort would attack if he failed to appear, but was it with enough force to defeat the force inside the school?

A part of him wanted to face Voldemort, have it out and stop the man. They could buy time in destroying the horcruxes if they destroyed his body or captured him. Hopefully, those would all be discovered, soon. Had Hermione managed to find one here? If not, they would have loads of time to search.

Harry descended the stairs, passing points he had grown up knowing. Places he had played hide and seek, places he had spoken with professors and students dozens of times. His steps echoed in the relative quiet, and he could almost hear the clattering of students' feet rushing to classes. Most of the students he had seen were running for the dormitories on professor's orders. Well, not Hufflepuffs or Slytherins. They were being take up to their rivals' common rooms, where it would be safer.

The portrait in the Gryffindor entrance of the Fat Lady would defend that entrance admirably. And the Ravenclaw riddles would delay if not bewilder unaccustomed invaders. Of course, there could be Ravenclaw invaders, but Voldemort had singled out the Scions and Order as their targets. They likely had parents of students in their ranks. Heedlessly killing students would risk their own children.

"Harry, come with us!" cried a Gryffindor girl. "They won't be able to get to you in our common room."

"Don't give yourself up, Harry!" A Ravenclaw boy cajoled.

"I'm just checking on things downstairs," he answered. "I won't do anything hasty."

That seemed to mollify them, and they continued on. He wasn't sure what he would do, but hiding was not the solution. Voldemort might not threaten students directly, but he might tear the school apart to get to him. Harry could not let that happen. A fight in the lower floors would not expose too many to danger, just those who chose to fight with him - the Order, mainly. They were all dedicated to the cause, anyway. As was he.

On the first floor landing, several Order members had gathered around Mad-Eye Moody and McGonagall, and voices sounded heated. His arrival barely seemed to register with any of them.

"He's just a boy!" cried McGonagall. "Of course, we can't consider it."

"He knows what he signed up to," Sirius said. "And I'm proud of him for what he's done."

"Children should not have to make those choices, then or ever!" Flitwick responded, his face a red bulb in anger.

"While I agree in principle," Sirius replied, "this is not an ordinary circumstance, and he is no ordinary 'child' if you must use the term. He has the fire of both his parents in him, and a cleverness to topple them both. I'm not saying he should let You-Know-Who kill him. That's ridiculous."

"You might as well have," McGonagall replied. "Sending him off alone…"

"I might note, the stipulation never said he had to be alone," Mad-Eye said. "Perhaps an honour guard?"

"It's still too much of a risk," McGonagall said. "It's certain to be a trap!"

"Undoubtedly," Remus said. "But is the alternative better?"

"You know he won't hold to any vague promises to leave us alone," Flitwick squeaked. "He never even promised that much. He only promised they would come in if he didn't meet in the forest. There was no mention of what he would do if Harry did. Likely, the same thing, just after he killed the boy."

"Maybe you should see what the boy thinks?" Harry asked, stepping into the middle of them. "I am right here, after all."

"Harry, you can't go down there," McGonagall spoke, her ferocity suddenly pointed at him. Harry had forgotten how hard she could be, when riled. "I forbid it!"

"I didn't say I would," Harry replied, putting out his hand in a calming gesture. "Like you say, it is certainly a trap, but there is the threat of attack. Do we have any way to see if those are illusions or real Death Eaters out there? I don't doubt some are, but he could be inflating their numbers to scare us."

"At a distance?" Remus asked, frowning. "No, I don't know that Dumbledore could do it without getting close. With no Apparition or other forms of fast travel available."

"We could use brooms," Harry found himself saying. "It's cloudy out, and quick brooms could make it difficult to see or hit…"

"No," McGonagall said.

"I didn't say it had to be me," Harry said. "And just an option. We need to consider options. If we can see there aren't many out there, then we could risk holding back and fight them here, where we control the battlefield. If there are too many, retreat might be the best option."

"Retreat?" Flitwick asked. "Abandon the school?"

"Three hundred against… how many got in before they blocked the entries? Twenty?" Harry said. "Even with the best planning, we would never fight them all. Much less them and the Scions still holed up in the Great Hall. How many of them are there, now?"

"Thirty-four," Moody replied, sombre.

The numbers stilled the argument. It was bleak, and Harry had known it when he told them. Retreat might be the only way. It would be terrible to lose the school and leave it without any Order professors, fewer well respected, too. The students would face worse and worse if that happened. He waited. Someone would ask the obvious question.

"How could we get out, if we had to retreat?" Flitwick asked.

"The House Elf tunnel," Remus said, looking over at Harry.

Harry nodded.

"But a Scion might have revealed the location to the Death Eaters," Remus replied.

"What is this?" McGonagall asked.

"The House Elves took Hermione and her group out a secret way no one else knew," Harry said. "I was grabbed by Scions trying to find it to come back in. However, we weren't at the entrance, so they may not have found it. But, escape is just a back-up plan. We don't run unless we absolutely need to. I wouldn't want to abandon the students to whomever Voldemort would install."

A few gasped and Harry waved away their concern.

"The Taboo isn't going to do much good here," he replied. "He knows we're here. They're outside. The protective spells on Hogwarts are too powerful for their little Taboo spell to affect us, in any case."

"So, we either send Harry in with a group to face him while preparing for the fight," Remus said, "prepare to fight when the hour is up, scout to see if the group is as large as advertised or run?"

Harry nodded. That appeared to be the size of it. Whatever they did, they would need to do it soon. Every second ticked away a scrap of the hour they had remaining. He could just go charge out, but to make it effective, he needed the Order behind him. They needed to make their decision, collectively. He was not doing this alone. He had learned that lesson.

"We need more information," Moody growled. "I say we get some eyes on the ring of Death Eaters and eyes in the forest. We need to know what we're walking into, either way."

"The forest is one thing," Remus reasoned, "but who is crazy enough to fly over a ring of Death Eaters? And, no, Harry, I know you're a good flier, but you're their number one target just now."

"You called?" Fred said, sliding in behind Remus.

"I'm here now," George said. "You need your best, and I'm here… also, Fred, he might be alright."

"Bet I can fly over and check more of them than you," Fred said.

"You won't get a quarter way around before I meet you," George said, laughing. "Isn't it cute how good he thinks he is?"

The pair eyed each other, a competitive fire in their eyes. Then, they leapt across the space, landing a perfect high five before taking each other by the arm.

"Fred, you ol' loon," George said. "Good to see you're in one piece after the Ministry had you."

"Ah, they were nothin'," Fred replied. "I faced down Bellatrix at our flat. Now, surviving that was a challenge."

"Ha! Good one," George replied. Then, his face went sour. "She went into our flat?"

Fred scrunched up his nose, nodding as though he seriously wanted to disagree.

"We'll need to scour it for days," George said, "work like house elves on it… yuck!"

"You two had best be off, and quickly," Moody barked. "We have less than forty minutes to You-Know-Who's deadline. We need all the information we can get."

The pair sped off, sparing Harry a pair of shoulder slaps on the way. Then, as fast as that, they were gone. Harry hoped they found the fastest brooms in the school. They would need speed and agility, like few had seen in a Quidditch match… He wished them well.

"Now, let's be quick about it," Moody said, cutting into their departure. "Remus, you and Sirius go check out the forest. Get the house elves' directions, if you don't know a faster way. The rest of you, come with me. We need to settle this Scion issue and prepare the school. One way or another, I expect, the Death Eaters will be back."

Moments later, they were in the Entrance Hall, behind a wall of stone that had been raised in the earlier fighting. Tonks was at the edge, sending a barrage of spells at the Great Hall. A similar block of stone prevented most spells from entering the space. The others did not find the mark, in any case. The Scions were playing it cautiously.

"We need to bring down that blasted wall of stone," Moody said.

"They must have enchanted it," Tonks said. "I've tried striking it with the Reductor Curse, but that only bounces off."

"Let me try something," Harry said, moving up next to Tonks. He stuck his head out just long enough to cast, "Finite!" When he glanced back a second later, he saw a spell from the other side hitting the rock, a ripple of air moving about it. Harry groaned. "They're recasting the charm anytime it is removed. We'll have to be a bit more aggressive to catch them off guard. Professor McGonagall, can you get to that stone over there?" He pointed to a stone midway across the hall to the left. "And Professor Flitwick, that one?" He pointed to the right to another stone.

They both nodded, pulling up their sleeves. "On my signal, hit that stone with all the Reductor Curses and whatever else you can throw at it. Alright? We'll provide some cover while you get over there."

Harry, Tonks and Moody began to bombard the edges of the Scion's stone with spells rapidly as the other two ran to their stones, crouching behind it. A few spells were sent out after them, but they were wild and soared well wide of the targets. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

He leaned in close to the edge, watching the enemy fire spells in the three different directions. Good, they were distracted, too. That could make this work even faster. Harry held one hand up in the air, looking at the three clusters of Order members. They all nodded to him. Harry raised his wand, and said, "Finite!" as he lowered his hand. Then, he gestured towards the rock, repeatedly alternating, "Finite! Reducto! Finite! Reducto!"

A violent, blinding series of explosions rocked the Entrance Hall, sending bits of rock flying all around the hall. Harry felt a number of pebbles strike his face and hands, but he did not stop sending the spells along with the other three groups until he could see cleanly through where the rock had been. A gaping hole in the centre told the story, and smoke came flooding in from the Great Hall doors.

Then, he ducked back behind the rock as a new series of spells flew out of the door. He was sure it was lessened by the few that had been close to the stone. Its destruction would have sent them sprawling, if they were lucky. Spells continued from both sides of the hall, and the cloud of dust began to envelop everything. Sweat began to crawl on his forehead as Harry struggled to maintain protection for their own stone and send offensive spells blindly into the Great Hall. At this point, he couldn't see the doors, much less any Scions. He did see an uptick in spells sent at the dust cloud, more Order members must have begun supporting them.

A spell struck Tonks, knocking her back beside him. Harry ducked out of the way and pulled her under cover. She looked stunned. "Ennervate!" he cast, bringing her back to sitting, gasping. "Catch your breath, then help us out," he said, barely hearing his own voice above the din.

At that moment, someone penetrated his protection of the stone, and it shattered, sending him backwards, flying over the seated Tonks. He struck the bottom stair of the Great Stairs, his breath stolen from him with the impact. Harry lay there, gasping for his air back as the spell fight continued. He vaguely saw Tonks up and fighting, her face covered in stone dust. Moody bellowed in pain from a spell strike, but continued fighting.

As Harry got his breath back, he saw a two ranked line of Scions exiting the clearing cloud of dust. The front were focused for defence, raising shields each time someone attacked them. The back were turning to send spells offensively. The Order members Harry could see fell back, hiding behind anything that would shield them. The Scions had not yet noticed Harry on the ground amidst the other fallen. They were being overrun!

In the back, a Scion with some height and clearly the leader called out orders. He pointed and they sent spells. Harry raised his wand. Maybe he could strike the man who had made him captive… Maybe he could get around the shields. The man saw him, and his hand pointed directly at Harry. Harry only managed to raise a shield before it was struck and shattered. He had nowhere to run. The next spells would knock him out, or worse.

A powerful cry shook the space, and a ball of fire struck the stonework in the middle of the Scions. It sent the Scions flying in all directions, a number striking walls or simply landing, limp on the ground. The remaining members scattered, some running back for the Great Hall, others looking for anywhere they could hide. Harry looked up, but couldn't see what was going on above.

The tall man was running for him, though. Harry felt his arm rising, and he tried to think of a spell to send the man back, but the man's wand was already moving.

"Leave Harry alone!" cried a voice, and a spell flew across the hall, sending the man sliding across the floor to stop lightly at the steps on the other side.

Hermione appeared, her wand still pointing at the man, but she sprinted over to Harry, worry covering her face. She looked around as she reached him, then helped him up and into the nearby corridor. Harry felt some pain in his left leg as he walked, but he didn't complain. He didn't care where she had come from. Harry was just happy she had come.

She looked about to fuss over him when they reached a niche in the corridor, but Harry pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I was so worried," he said, and he felt her soften, then tighten her own grip on him.

They said nothing for a while, but he could feel her own worry in the grip. He was sure that she didn't want to let go, either. Booms and crashes resounded in the space behind them, but neither of them moved. It was fortunate the Order seemed to have the Scions in hand, because neither of them would have been able to stop an attack.

Eventually, they released, looking at each other. Hermione was crying. Harry creased his forehead. Was she injured?

"Hermione?" he began, reaching up to brush her cheek.

"Harry, just… just read it," she said, holding out a letter with a shaking hand.

Harry frowned, unsealed the letter and read it. The content was short, to the point and heartbreaking. He understood. Hermione. Oh, how he understood.

"I… I tried to find something," Hermione said as he lowered the parchment, her eyes red. "The library solved so many of our problems. I just needed more time, Harry. I'm sure I could have…"

"Dumbledore had faith," Harry said, steeling himself. "If he thinks we can get through this, then I must, too. I… I guess this makes the decision easy, though. I have to face him, now."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, struggling to hold in her emotions. "Maybe it doesn't have to be today. Maybe we can find another day, and that will give us time, time to research it, together. I should have brought you in from the first, but…"

"You wanted to spare me," he said, sighing. "I… thanks, Hermione. But, I think today is it. We're surrounded, and may have just finished off the Scions. If we don't stop him today, Voldemort might have too much power to be stopped. Even if his three hundred aren't real, there's a chance they are. He's had time, time to gather. We need to finish his last horcruxes… and end it."

"We… we brought back the the diadem," she said.

"Yes," Harry replied. "Remus has it. I don't know if it is a horcrux or not, but I suspect it is. We didn't find the cup… If I … can't, make sure you destroy it, Hermione."

"Don't talk like that, you idiot," she said, burying her face in his robe. "You said you have faith. Well, don't you?"

"Yeah," he said. "But, who knows… maybe the school will send me to Australia or something. That would take some time to get back."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. Harry lifted her chin, looked into her eyes and kissed her. Every time he did was like a rush of happiness. It was a long time before they moved apart.

Harry pulling his wand back out, determined. "Let's go," he said. "If I need to face him, I want you near me. We need to do this right, and we can't afford some other Death Eater trying to take me down for glory."

Hermione looked surprised, but Harry felt certain of it. He was done with going it alone. Even if he needed to… die, he would have help getting there, and if everything went well, he would need help getting back out. He would come back. Dumbledore had seemed certain, so it must be…

The pair entered the Entrance Hall to a much changed scene. The remaining Scions were tied up in one corner of the hall, Tonks sat on the lowest step of the Grand Stairs with Remus knelt down beside her. He was particularly, tender, seeing to her wounds. He, himself, looked winded and tired. Sirius was standing over the captives, laughing. The twins were flying around in the air, pumping their fists in the air from their brooms and hooting.

Harry and Hermione walked calmly to the centre of the hall, joining the group gathering around Moody. Harry was surprised how many were in the hall. Tonks remained seated, but about a dozen Order members gathered, including Moody, the professors (including a few that were not Order members), Arthur, Molly, Charlie, Bill, Fred, George, Remus and Sirius. He was particularly startled to see Ron and Ginny amongst them, Ginny with a defiant face. A few others milled on the edges, watching the Scions and watching the damaged entry doors.

"Good work, everyone," Moody said. "The Scions were a big problem behind us. Now, we need to worry about the one in front. Fred and George?"

"There aren't three hundred Death Eaters out there," Fred said.

"More like sixty," George added, shrugging.

"A couple might have singed robes…" Fred said, lobbing one of their fireworks in one hand.

"And a few might have spouted extra tentacles," George added, obviously slipping something into his pocket.

"But it's still a good number," the pair said at once.

"Moody!" cried a man. Harry thought he was named Mundungus. "I found something you might be interested in.

The shabby man came forward, holding a book. "The leader there had it," he said. "Matches the one that Albus was talking about."

"And you stumbled on it?" Moody asked, his eyes hard.

"Was just looking to make sure no one was carrying anything dangerous," Mundungus answered. "And I resent the implication it was anything else!"

"Thank you," Harry said. "I'm sure we can take care of that. We know it's a horcrux… right?"

"Albus said it was," Moody growled. "Give it here."

He took the horcrux and put a bubble around it. With a fierce growl, he stabbed at it with his wand. "Mala Ignis," he said. The bubble filled with Fiendfyre, burning away the diary in an instant. Moody waved his wand, dissolving the spells.

"Alright," Moody grumbled. "That is done. Anything from outside, Remus?"

"We couldn't get there," Remus said.

"Had to collapse the tunnel as the Death Eaters tried to send some acromantulas in at us," Sirius grumbled. "I told you they could fit!"

"Fine," Harry said. "It's a fight then. And… I will have to face Voldemort.

"What?" McGonagall began.

"Dumbledore sent me a letter," Harry said. "I don't know where he is, but he said I have to face him. He cannot be defeated unless I do."

"Is this that prophecy rubbish again?" McGonagall asked, sounding scandalised by the field.

"No," he said, "but I have to face him, nonetheless. Hermione has agreed to come with me. Who else wants to help there? We will need some people here. I am sure he will order an attack on the school, anyway. Our numbers aren't … great."

"I'll come," Remus said. "If you have to face him, you'll need all the defence you can get."

"I'm stayin'," Moody growled. "School needs a good defence in this hall."

"We're coming with Harry," the twins said.

"You two," Moody said, "might best help here. I have a few ideas which might need your particular … skills."

They paused, looking at Harry, but nodded. The remaining divided amongst themselves, leaving Harry with an additional guard of Arthur, Sirius, Hagrid and Professor Flitwick. The rest were staying.

"We will need to build up some protection along the hall, and have some of you down the corridors, to protect from courtyard entries," Moody said. "This is not an ideal defensive location, and with our numbers, we may struggle. If we fall-back, we rise through the school, a floor at a time and…"

He trailed off as a storming of sound descended through the stairs. Everyone looked up and watched hundreds of students racing down to the Entrance Hall. Eight of the students came to the forefront, two from each House.

"Professors," said one of the group, "we, the students of Hogwarts, have decided to help. We heard You-Know-Who call out Harry for a fight. If he, a student, must fight, so will we."

"Absolutely not," McGonagall began, but Snape stepped forward from the Order ranks, touching her shoulder.

"Students," he said, looking at them with his harsh expression. "We will not stop you, if you wish to defend the school. However, I ask that only those who have achieved their O.W.L.s remain and that you know what you are attempting. The Dark Lord will not hesitate to kill any of you, if you stand in his way. He will not stop at death, either. His followers know an unsettling number of terrible techniques. If you choose to fight, no one can guarantee your safety. I ask that you consider, fully, before you decide."

"We have," the spokesman said, his voice proud. "Each of us, O.W.L. or no O.W.L. is ready to fight, professor."

"O.W.L. only or none of you," the Headmaster snapped in retort. "You are under my care. I will not risk the lives of all our students unnecessarily."

The students grumbled, but the eight conferred and nodded. "Headmaster, we will send up the younger students. They will remain in the common rooms."

"Vinken!" Snape called out.

A small house elf appeared. "Yes, Headmaster?" the figure asked, looking up. "The house elves are ready to help!"

"The younger students are going up to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor common rooms," he responded. "Could I ask you to watch over them, keep them safe?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Vinken said, proudly, a smile on his face. "It is the house elves' pleasure to help the students of Hogwarts!"

Snape nodded as Vinken Disapparated, then, turning to Harry and the others who had watched the exchange, he said, shortly, "Don't you have somewhere to be, Potter?"

Harry nodded to the man, and led the others to the entrance door. He opened it, finding himself suddenly surrounded by his guard, Hermione close at his side. He was not accustomed to having anyone guard him. They might not have to do it for very long. Outside, he could see the wall of Death Eaters waiting for them. Many were fake, but the illusion spell made it impossible to tell which. They probably would not like to see him guarded on the way to Voldemort.

"Albus?" Remus asked, looking to the left.

Harry followed the man's eyes, and saw the old Headmaster, head of the Order of the Phoenix, near the edge of the school. In front of him, a dull white light hovered, it flashed brighter and waned regularly, but always dull enough that Harry could look at it directly. Albus had not seen them, and was far enough away that it would take some effort to get to him, and take them well out of their journey to the forest. What was he doing?

Squinting, Harry saw Albus lay a hand on the tree, the same one he and Hermione had retrieved. The man must have taken it from the Room of Requirement. As far as Harry could tell, Albus was fully concentrated on it, and muttering to it or to himself. Maybe he was still trying to put it back? Harry couldn't be sure.

"He has his battle," Sirius said, drawing everyone's eyes back, "and we have our own. How do we get through them?"

He pointed ahead at the line of Death Eaters. None of them moved, but all of them watched. The other Order members were silent, all trying to work something out.

"We must have only a few minutes left of Voldemort's time limit," Harry said, frowning. "Maybe we should take a leaf out of Albus' book? Everyone gather around. I'll need everyone up front to put up shields. Stay still. Hermione, can you and Arthur focus on moving us forward? I'll keep us airborne?"

"Harry, what do you?" Hermione began.

Harry waved his wand in a circle around them, saying, "Reducto. Wingardium Leviosa."

A cracked section of earth around them appeared and shuddered. Harry lofted them carefully into the air. Then, Hermione and Arthur Weasley sent them flying forward. The air whistled past, a rush that increased as they accelerated. Harry felt his footing slip, slightly, but Hermione took his arm to keep them together. The boulder of earth flew forward, past bewildered Death Eaters and into the edge of the forest, before it collided with a number of trees and dropped them to the ground.

Harry groaned, rising up and helping Hermione to her feet. The others cursed or grunted in annoyance. Still, they had made it, and the shields had softened the landing. Harry stumbled forward, entering a clearing not far from their landing. Death Eaters were scrambling about, trying to find out who had invaded their space. They stopped, startled, to see Harry come through.

He felt the others behind him, but he did not look back. Harry strode forward, calling out. "Riddle! I have come to face you. Show yourself unless you are a coward."

The Death Eaters snarled at his words, but made no move. Evidently, their Dark Lord wanted him for himself. Voldemort did step forward, then, pale white and laughing. He had the ease and confidence he had always had, and smiled at seeing Harry there.

"You see?" he said, looking around at his followers. "So predictable. And he brought a few more for you to play with, but not yet. He is mine, first. When I have killed the boy, then you can do what you will with the rest."

"I knew you were not as good as your word," Harry said. "You couldn't even defeat the Scions, yet we have. You are cruel and cowardly. Always hiding in the shadows, always letting others do your work for you. Well, no more. That ends today. I mean to bring about your fall."

"So you may think, young fool," Voldemort said. "I should have killed you years ago. Now, it is finally, my time."

Voldemort pulled out his wand, stalking forward. "Watch closely, all. Today, you will see how worthless this child is, and how little faith you should have put in him."

Harry stood tall, not raising his wand. His enemy raised his own, a mad look of glee in his eyes as he screamed the curse, "Avada Kedavra!"

Something bright white raced the green spell through the air, blurring with it as it impacted. The light was blinding, green with weaves of white wrapped up into it. Harry felt nothing, no pain. He was enveloped into that light and everything else faded away.


	50. Chapter 50: Return of the Light

Harry blinked his eyes, confused. He seemed to be alive, or not? It felt light, but gentle here. But, then the light faded, somewhat. It was still there, all around him, but he could see better. It was a room, like the common rooms in the school, but not one that he had ever been in. A long, ornate rug ran beneath his feet through a semi-circle of four chairs to a roaring fire. The flames of it were dimmer than that background light. It all felt so calm, so inviting.

He stepped forward, passing the chairs and holding his hands up to the air before the fireplace. It was warm, like a soothing heartbeat throb in a cold night. It had been cold outside of the ring of chairs. He just realised that. Harry also realised he wasn't alone. Turning, he tried to pull his wand, only to discover it was not there.

"We have waited for you to come for some time, Harry Potter," said a voice, melodious and soft. It came from a woman, tall and fair. She wore a tiara of dazzling beauty upon her head. She looked strong, hard and ancient with wisdom.

"We have known you would come, of course," a smooth faced gentleman said, smiling. He held a cane with a serpentine curl about its shape, his fingers curling about the head of the snake with an old familiarity. His face was flush, full of life and vigour.

"We are proud of how brave you have been," another man, large, burly and with a face of endless mirth said. He had a great mane of wavy hair, down to the great beast shoulder-pads on his armour. He was animated, skin flushed and alive.

"We regret you must remain steadfast, however," a shorter woman said, stout and with eyes that beamed kindness. She caressed a small mammal on her lap, fingers aged, but sturdy, worn in good service. Her skin looked pale, almost see through, sickly.

"Who? Who are you?" he asked, looking between them.

"I am sure a clever Ravenclaw could guess it," the first, tall woman said, giving him an approving look.

"Y-you're the Founders!" he exclaimed as the truth dawned upon him. "But, that's…"

"Impossible?" the man who must be Godric guffawed. "Remember when that was a limitation?"

"You only never accepted it," Salazar said, his voice a little strained. "Still, in this case, he was quite right."

"More or less, anyway," Rowena replied. "The specifics of it are quite a bit more complicated."

"How can this be?" Harry asked. "You all died centuries ago."

"When we were nearing our end," Godric said, nodding, "our clever Rowena devised a plan to continue the magic of Hogwarts for eons to come."

"We have cast ourselves, fully," Rowena said, "into the school itself, become a part of it."

"The heart of the school, if you will," Helga said, her voice tired, and she coughed.

"It was a beautiful, elegant plan," Salazar said. "We have watched much and seen the growth of students, the wonderment of change and generations. Much has changed, but to the good, I think."

"Where… where am I?" Harry asked. "What happened?"

"You did a brave thing, my lad," Godric said, sounding proud.

"And quite… clever," Rowena added.

"You sacrificed yourself for everyone!" Hufflepuff beamed.

"Turning the dark wizard's magic against him, I might add," Salazar said, sounding pleased.

"So… I'm dead?" Harry asked.

"Somewhat," Helga said. "Though, a remnant of your mother's protection still remains, so not completely."

"So, I can go back?" Harry asked.

"If you wish it," Godric pronounced. "Though, you have earned a place of honour, in either case."

"Though, you do need to destroy his last two horcruxes," Rowena said. "A bother, that."

"The cup and the diadem?" Harry asked.

"Such a mockery he made of our hard work," Rowena exclaimed. "Does he have any idea how long I researched to… Oh, well, it is past. I have lost less than others."

"That's right," Godric said, nodding to her. "We have managed to expunge two of his horcruxes in this forest. And I'm afraid we will lose one of our own."

"Who?" Harry asked, looking between them. Seeing Helga Hufflepuff's face confirmed his fear. "It's… you, isn't it?" he asked her. "You… had the… the amber light."

She nodded, sombre. "It is my time," she said. "That spell broke the artefact of my bonding asunder. I am fading, and - with it - the strength of the school."

"The school?" Harry asked. "What do you mean?"

"We were the pillars of the school's founding, young Harry," Salazar said. "Without our lives, it would have fallen into disarray, the magic holding up so much of it would have ended."

"As Helga fades, we struggle to maintain," Godric added. "We are strong, but without a fourth, we will fade. But, that is not your concern for today. What will be, will be."

"What should I do now?" Harry asked.

"What is it you want to do?" Rowena asked.

"I want to go back and help finish Voldemort, once and for all," Harry replied.

"Spoken like a Gryffindor at heart," Godric said. "I knew he would do well in my House."

"And you know, as well as we," Helga said, "that the Houses are only a starting point. In time, a good witch or wizard may exhibit some or all of what we valued. A person could exhibit them all without inconsistency."

"Then, why set up the Houses at all?" Harry asked.

"Call it our petty pride of life," Salazar said. "Much we believed in our younger days have fallen away with agelessness. When you watch students come and go for a thousand years, you might gain a little perspective, young man."

"Should we do away with them?" Harry asked.

"That is for you to decide, you and those in the school," Godric said.

"You must do what is best for the school," Helga gasped. She faded further. "It is coming soon. I am sorry. Care for the students, all as one, Harry Potter, one as all. One school, one world. Everyone is different and the same. Remember that. My friends… my friends, I will miss you in the beyond. Stay strong. I look fondly on our time together. My love for you, as for the school, as for every student, is without end. Good bye, loves."

The other Founders were suddenly beside her chair. Salazar and Godric kneeling at her feet, hands covering hers and Rowena leant beside her, enclosing her in a hug. Harry suddenly felt like he saw something he should not. It was too personal, intimate, but he was there, and they did not tell him off. He watched as the Founder, Helga Hufflepuff, winked away, leaving the others and himself. They remained at her chair a moment, then stood, sighing and returned to their own. Her chair looked empty, lonely, without the woman in it. Everything felt a bit less light, a bit dimmer.

"Harry, it is your time," Rowena said.

"Remember well the words of our wise friend," Salazar said.

"She was a light in our darkest moments," Godric said. "Bring what you can of it to the world. Know, we are behind you, always."

Harry nodded. "Thank you," he said. "I am ready."

The world winked away, and he awoke, finding himself on the ground in the middle of a pitched battle. How long he had been gone, Harry could not tell, but everything seemed to have gone to chaos. Many trees had been blasted away, and Harry could see the battle raged in front of the school as well as it did here.

At his feet, a blackened tree lay, cracked in half and empty. He knew, it was the tree from the school. That was why Dumbledore had brought it out here. It had intercepted the spell. That had been that white flash of light that struck even as he accepted the Killing Curse. He pushed himself up, and heard a gasp of shock from nearby.

"Harry!" cried a voice from nearby.

He turned, seeing Hermione fighting with a Death Eater he recognised as Lucius. Harry swung his wand, pointing at the man, and said, "Expelliarmus!" Lucius barely ducked under the spell, and Harry had to duck under spells sent from another part of the battle.

Voldemort was on the other end of the clearing, duelling with Remus and unaware Harry had survived. The Cup and the diadem remained. Harry had to see if he could destroy them. He raced over towards the men. Remus had the diadem. The cup might have to wait.

"Too slow!" Voldemort cried, sending a flash of green at Remus. "Avada Kedavra!"

The man dodged it, tripping on a forest root, and fell into a ditch. Out of his pocket bounced the diadem, ricochetting off a root and rolling towards Voldemort's feet. The pale man flared with anger.

"So! You had it!" he screamed. "I knew someone was collecting them. Someone took the locket, too. I will take this one back, over your dead body, of course!"

He raised his wand, and Harry didn't hesitate. With a whip of his wand, he focused as Dumbledore had taught them, sending a flare of fire, "Mala Ignis!" he roared. Then, he flicked his wand to make a bubble.

A snake of fire shot at the diadem with deadly speed, eating up the diadem in an instant. Harry panicked. His bubble charm had failed, leaving the monstrous flame out of control. The snake evolved into a dragon, soaring through the tree branches overhead, devouring anything in its path. The forest began to blaze, the heat of it overwhelming. Harry saw Remus run before the beast, casting water charms back at it.

Voldemort ignored it, his red eyes burning as he looked at the source of it. "You!" he cried. With a crack of his wand like a whip, Voldemort sent a spell at Harry, striking his shoulder with force. Harry stumbled back into a tree, his back feeling a jolt of pain. He could vaguely see the fire still raging around them, and Harry felt alone, isolated. It was just him and Voldemort, again.

This time, however, he could fight back. Harry put up a shield in time to block a spell that seared the surface of his shield. Then, Harry went on the offensive. He sent spell after spell at the man, trip jinxes, stunners, fire, water, anything that came to mind. Voldemort dodged or blocked all of them, barely seeming to move. The man laughed, coldly as he sent another onslaught Harry's way.

The Fiendfyre roared behind Voldemort, illuminating him as it passed. The flames seemed to lick at him, bedevilling him more than Harry had thought was possible. Harry did not give up. He could hear the sounds of the rest of the battle, remote, as though in another world. This was the battle that mattered, at least now.

Harry tried to screw up his anger, but he could not hate, not like Voldemort. How could he kill a man if he couldn't hate him? Instead, he sent further spells, more complex jinxes. He charmed one of the few trees still standing to grab Voldemort. The man waved his wand, burning it before it grew close.

"Avada Kedavra!" the man cried, blasting a hole in a tree beside Harry as he dodged. "I have had enough of this, Harry Potter! You die now!"

What followed was a dozen Killing Curses one after another, each missing Harry as he ran by the barest distance. He couldn't hold his ground against that. Shields were useless against the Killing Curse. Harry drew uncomfortably close to the Fiendfyre, wishing he could remember the counter-curse or how to contain it now that it had escaped. The beast roared, chasing after him. And Harry raced away from it, struggling to keep Voldemort in view as he ran.

The cruel man cackled with anger and glee. The dark wizard hardly had to work with the fire doing so much. Harry had given him a great boon, despite all efforts to harm the man. He needed something… he needed help!

Hermione leapt through the flames, flinging spells at Voldemort. The man stumbled, off guard, but recovered immediately. Harry came to assist Hermione, sending his own spells at the man. But Voldemort was quite adept. He dodged spells from both as he sent ones for each of them to avoid or block. He did not seem fazed at all to be duelling two people at once. Harry sent a tremor in the earth beneath the man, but Voldemort held steady.

And then, the tables turned further. Through the flames strode Bellatrix Lestrange. She threw a powerful curse at Hermione, sending her tumbling. Harry cried out. Sending spells at Bellatrix as the woman bore down on Hermione. Bellatrix rebounded them towards Harry, forcing him to duck. He couldn't get close.

"Hey, you!" cried an angry voice, following Bellatrix into the clearing.

She turned, and laughed. "My, my!" she cried. "If it isn't the little Longbottom boy. Does he want to play? Does he know how much his parents begged? Begged for my mercy? Does he?"

Neville snarled and began duelling with Bellatrix, giving Harry a chance to help Hermione up. She was injured but still angry, fierce. Her eyes flicked back to Voldemort in time to leap aside. Harry put his arm up, blocking his face from the shards of rocks that buffeted him. He sent another spell back at the man as he put up another shield.

The duel felt like it went on forever, but Harry was certain it had only been moments since he had arisen. Beside them, Bellatrix and Neville fought, the woman growing more and more frustrated as she was unable to knock him quickly. Neville roared as he fired spell after spell at the woman, his face bloodied, but he didn't hesitate. Harry took heart from it, and continued his fight.

The problem, though, was the growing realisation that he could not defeat Voldemort. Even with Hermione's help… they didn't stand a chance in the long run. Voldemort had had decades of exposure, practice, duels and winning all of them. He had more dark magic up his sleeve than they had regular magic. How had he assumed this would go any better?

The Fiendfyre flew behind Voldemort, earning it only a glance by the man as he continued his duel. Harry was glad for at least some distance between them and that beast. Most of the forest around them had burned, and patches of grass still burned. Harry struggled to breathe through all the smoke around them. He realised he had been holding his own breath far too much. Harry coughed as he sent spells, feeling weakened.

Voldemort looked triumphant, and raised his wand, ready to kill. Harry knew he could not get out of the way in time, now. He struggled against his coughs, but hearing the same from Hermione made him panic. Anything but that! She had to be safe. She had to live!

Before any of them could act, a figure flew into the remnants of the clearing, hopping off his broom. Albus stood, hard and with a dangerous look in his eyes. Voldemort looked startled, uncertain, for the first time since the duel had begun. Albus merely flicked his wand, a smile coming over his face.

Harry, bewildered, watched the out of control Fiendfyre straighten up, turning carefully around behind Voldemort, moving in a more graceful, careful motion. Voldemort looked bewildered, not seeing the results of Albus' spell. He aimed a spell for Dumbledore. Albus blocked it with a giant shield he summoned in the air. Then, he flicked his wand backwards, towards himself.

With a roar, the Fiendfyre blazed forward, and Voldemort turned too late. The spell engulfed him, and he struggled with his wand to put it out. A cracking sound shook the air as something flew out of the man's robes, bouncing with a metallic sound across the ground to Harry's feet. He watched, in shock, as the last horcrux, the Cup, shattered and dissolved.

Then, Albus spun his wand, catching the Fiendfyre in a whirlwind that seemed to dissolve it. The forest still crackled with the flames, but Voldemort and his horcruxes were no more. The battle without continued, and Harry finally gave a thought to it. They had beaten Voldemort, but what about the Death Eaters?

Bellatrix howled, running towards Voldemort. As she ran, ropes wrapped around her, slamming her face down into the ashen earth. Neville walked over, leaning over to take her wand in his hand. With an effort, he snapped her wand like a twig, throwing the pieces to the earth. Bellatrix screamed bloody fury until Neville used magic to gag her. He spat down at her and then turned away, putting a hand to his head.

The young man had finally stopped the woman who had tormented her parents, taken their sanity. He sat down on a log, looking tired. Harry walked over to put a hand on his friend's shoulder, and he felt Hermione come over, too. Then, a blaze of noise from the direction of the castle drew Harry away. He passed around the burnt remains of trees to see it.

Harry gawked at the battlefield beyond the trees. Hundreds of wizards fought their way across, wearing robes of blue and many other colours. Madam Maxime bellowed as she sent ropes to bind Death Eaters and others to send clusters of black robed figures flying. The acromantulas were being chased out by Sirius riding a hippogriff accompanied by a furious Hagrid. The Keeper of the Keys yelled in anger at them, calling a few of them by name as he scolded them.

A dragon made up of fireworks chased a half-dozen Death Eaters, plus Draco and a couple of his cronies across the field. Fred and George cackled from behind, directing the dragon with their wands. Harry just shook his head. Where had all of these people come from?

"We got your message, Albus," said Kingsley, running up to them. "I sent for Madam Maxime and the loyal Aurors. I think Madam Bones is on the other side of the school with some of them. We should have this battle wrapped up shortly."

"Thank you, old friend," Albus said, looking grateful. "Casualties?"

"Few," the man said, smiling. "Injuries, mostly. I saw a couple students looking rather Confunded, but I do not think there have been fatalities. It is a fortunate thing."

"Excellent," Albus said. "When things settle, bring everyone to me in the Entrance Hall. We have one more task to see to, and then…"

"Of course, Albus," Kingsley said, charging off to assist.

Harry started forward, but Albus put a hand on his shoulder. "I think you, my friend, have fought enough today. It is nearly done, and could not have gone better with all the plans in the world."

Hermione reached them, leaping to embrace Harry. She gripped him harder than usual, but her face had no more tears. She was full of the brightest smiles. Harry felt he must be, as well. They had made it.

"Albus," Hermione said, when she had been able to let go long enough to look at him. She merely held Harry's arm like he might float way, now. "How did you know Harry would make it out?"

"I thought he would," Albus said. "But I could not be certain. When Voldemort returned, they used something of Harry in it, yes?"

"Quirrell took some of my blood," Harry responded. It felt like a millennia had passed since that day. "The Founders thought it was due to my mother's protection."

"Oh, did they?" Dumbledore asked, eyeing him curiously. "It is possible. Though, my theory relies upon the connection he created when he used your blood to regenerate. It protected you from him, so his spell killed the horcrux in you, but not yourself. I would very much like to hear the Founders' theories in full, however."

"Well, I - er," Harry said, feeling awkward. Did he sound mad?

"Founders?" Hermione asked.

"All will be explained in time, Hermione," Albus said. "I expect, shortly, in fact. See, they have rounded up the rest of the Death Eaters. Let us join them in the Entrance Hall."

They crossed the field leading up to the school, or what remained of it. The beautiful grass was left with many bare patches and upturned earth. Tied up figures dotted the area like stains upon the surface. Harry saw a number of people as they went.

Sirius and Remus were laughing at something, shoulder to shoulder as they levitated a handful of Death Eaters towards the school. Kingsley ran around giving orders. Hagrid sat on a rock, sighing and kicking at the broken sod beneath his feet. He waved when Harry passed, however.

The Weasley family joined their walk, the twins standing tall behind Harry and announcing them as they walked as "Vanquishers of Voldypants! Seriously strong wizards and witches here!"

Molly alternated her fussing over them and her husband. Arthur walked with a limp, his left shoe was red with blood, but he kept a pleased smile on his face. Their other sons trailed after, chatting amicably. Harry saw Ginny, skipping happily through the field. He hadn't seen her look this light and free since before Riddle…

Harry's heart felt light, too. A great weight had just left them all. Something bothered him, something just out of reach? Why didn't he feel complete relief? What was he forgetting?

They entered the Entrance Hall, filing in with hundreds of other people. Harry was still in shock. Was it actually over? Had all of these people, the French he had met on the way north, the Aurors, Order members and students just toppled two distinctly powerful groups, the Death Eaters and Silver Scions? It was a lot to take in, but Harry felt a background wave of a powerful emotion. Pride. He was proud of them, all of them. This day didn't belong to any one person. It was all of their victories.

He looked up at Dumbledore and saw a look of contentment. That was a very different feeling, but, Harry thought, Albus had been fighting this fight much longer than most of them. He had been facing dark wizards for most of his life. A victory like this would be a different thing than for the rest of them. To them, it was new. To him… it probably brought back the other times, the other pains.

Albus brought them to the broken entrance to the Great Hall, standing at the centre of the doorway. He waited, patient, as the rest of the group gathered. Harry saw that the space filled with not just witches and wizards, but house elves. Even the younger students seemed to have found out it was safe to descend.

Harry gasped, his mind spinning back to a vision he had seen years ago. He had been a first year, saddened at the separation he saw in the school, and Harry had found a very curious mirror - one of some importance he later learned. But in that vision… he had seen this. Hundreds of students, together, mixed without concern. Ravenclaws stood with Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors with Slytherins and every combination in between. Harry felt his eyes water in pride and wonderment.

The space filled up the Grand Stair a couple levels' worth. Albus smiled when the Entrance Hall doors closed. Silence fell, not an uncomfortable one, but a calm, relieved one. That was how Harry felt it, anyway, that and purely magical.

Albus looked out to all of them, his gaze running slowly across the crowd, acknowledging many he saw with nods and that twinkle so often seen in his eye. Then, he raised his hands to the ceiling.

"Thank you," he declared, his voice shaking the loose rocks in the place, booming with a natural strength. "You have brought this chapter of sadness, of worry, to a close. You have saved the lives of many of your fellow wizards and witches. You have taken away the wave of fear from the hearts of our children, grandchildren.

"You have brought us… peace. I look out on you and I see bravery, heroes, people fighting for their families, for love. The enemy fought for hate, for anger, for things that we cannot understand. And now, it is done. Or nearly. The first part is done, but much remains. The Ministry will need many of you to help rebuild. The school, too, will clearly need some care. I will help there, as I can.

"This brings me to something… important. In my years, I have never found a place as incredible as Hogwarts." Albus touched the wall nearest him, tender. "It was designed by the Founders, this much most who hear of it know. Their names were Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff. What most did not know is that they did not leave it, not fully.

"Hogwarts has housed the four Founders' souls entire, a gift to us, a gift to future generations. It is their full embodiment here that keeps the spells and the magical protections of the school in place, in perpetuity. Our fallen enemy, damaged one of these souls, by accident, but damaged nonetheless. In attempting to murder Harry Potter, some months ago, he infected one with an accidental horcrux, a cruel part of his soul that is broken away from the whole with murder. That has been purged today. Harry, can you tell me which we have lost?"

All eyes turned to Harry. He frowned. The crowd did not make him nervous. He just felt, strange, talking about what he had seen there. It had been moving, sad and very intimate. However, he found the strength to answer.

"Helga Hufflepuff's spirit departed," Harry said. "The others were with her… to the end."

Albus nodded, frowning. "Helga was often seen as the uniter of the Founders, the one who helped end arguments. Nothing could fully replace what she was to this place. However, the death of that part leaves the school vulnerable, weak. It is incomplete and… dying. This cannot stand. This transcends the damage of Voldemort and his followers. Hogwarts is more than that to us. Most of us have fond memories in this place. We have called it home for years. I have had the privilege of doing so longer than most. Therefore, I find it appropriate that I find myself in this rare position.

"Hogwarts Founders," he said, letting his voice reverberate across the space. "I offer you, my whole self. In the we have all experienced, I ask that I may help maintain and keep this school, Hogwarts, whole."

Then, he grew quiet, turning towards the Great Hall. Harry heard murmurs run through the crowd. He felt shock. So, that was Albus' plan. He wanted to fix the school, but … at that cost? That cost?

"Albus," he said, hearing his voice echoed dozens of times in the general quiet. "You don't have to do this!"

Dumbledore smiled at him and nthen at the crowd. "I ask it because I choose to. If the Founders accept me. I am flawed, as are all men. If they find me worthy, then I would gladly give my all for this place. It is my home, our collective home. What I can do, I will. For you, for us, for your children and children's children. There is not one iota of doubt in my mind. For the poor decisions and failures I have had, for every time I put someone in undue danger. I would make it right, now. Founders… what have you decided?"

The doorway to the Great Hall transformed. Harry gasped. They were looking at the room he had just seen, the place with the Founders, the four chairs and the fireplace. The chairs had turned to face the opening, away from the fireplace. The three remaining Founders stood, bowing low. When they rose, Harry saw Rowena wink at him, nearly imperceptibly.

They turned, as one, to Albus, and gestured to the open seat between them, smiles across their aged, wise faces. Albus smiled back. He stepped forward, passing through the portal. Harry thought he looked less solid, then, like the other Founders. Without hesitation, Albus passed between the others, and stood alongside them. Turning, he sat, as they also sat. With a wink and a twinkle in his eye, Albus nodded to everyone outside the portal.

The doorway now faced the broken Great Hall. Except, something was changing. The broken walls began to repair. The doorway, too, began to repair itself. People gasped, and Harry turned to see the same throughout the Entrance Hall. The hall began to reassemble, the damage erasing itself. Harry found himself lifting his wand and assisting. And he was not alone. All through the hall, the murmur of "Reparo" echoed for minutes on end.

In the end, the room was whole, and the Great Hall, as well. Much remained to fix, but this place was as it should. Harry felt that last weight leave him. There was sadness, it floated there, loss. Albus was… dead, but it did not overwhelm. He was dead but not gone. Albus had given everything for the school, and would do so as long as he was able. That made Harry take heart.

Hermione took his hand, pressing it. He pressed back. Silence resumed in the room. A happy one. People beamed at each other, enthralled by the beauty they had witnessed. Then, the silence shattered. Everyone was hugging and crying for joy. A party began out of nowhere. Dancing and music. The day had changed from one of danger, fear and sadness to one of immense happiness.

Harry and Hermione joined in, but he never left her side. After everything, it still felt too surreal. Would it suddenly change back to how the day had begun? How had it all come to this? For once, Harry could sigh and let the questions wash away. They had done it. He was here, with Fred, George and, most of all, Hermione. They were safe. They were home once more.


End file.
